"Yes, I know her," said John. "We don't get on a bit. She moves on far too high a plane for a groundling like me. She's intellectual and earnest, and my ignorance and light-mindedness wound her to the quick. She'll end, as I've told her to her face, by writing books,--serious novels, probably,--which she'll illuminate with beautiful irrelevant quotations from Browning and Cardinal Newman." "Bother," said Lady Blanchemain. "You're perverse." "Besides," said John, "she's engaged." "Engaged--?" faltered Lady Blanchemain. "Yes--to an intellectual and earnest man, named Blake--Bernard Blake--a grandson of the famous Blake of Cambridge." Lady Blanchemain fixed him with darkening eyes. "Are you sure?" she pleaded. "I saw it officially stated in the _Morning Post_," was John's relentless answer. "What a nuisance," said Lady Blanchemain, fanning. Her fan was of amber tortoise-shell, with white ostrich feathers, and the end sticks bore her cypher and coronet in gold. "What a jolly fan," said John. "Well, well," said Lady Blanchemain, reconciling herself. Then, after an instant of pensiveness, "So you're already laid low by her beauty. But you haven't found out yet who she is?" "Who who is?" said John, looking all at sea. "Tut. Don't tease. Your woman at the castle." "My woman at the castle appeared to leave you cold," he complained. "I arrived full of her, and you wouldn't listen." "So you're already in love with her?" said Lady Blanchemain. "No--not yet," said he. "As yet I merely recognize in her admirable material for a painting, and regret that such material should go begging for the lack of a painter. But by this time to-morrow--who can tell?" "Have you found out who she is?" asked Lady Blanchemain. "No--not yet," said he. "As yet I've merely found out that she's visiting an Austrian Signora Brandi, who lives (I can't think why) in the pavilion beyond the clock. But by this time to-morrow!" His gesture spoke volumes of prospective information. "She looked like a gentlewoman," reflected his friend. "For all the world," said he. "Yet, if she's an Austrian--" She paused and pondered. "Why? What's the difficulty?" said he. "To know whether she is _born_," said Lady Blanchemain. "Among Austrians, unless you're born, you're impossible, you're nowhere. Brandi doesn't sound born, does it? We mustn't let you become enamoured of her if she isn't born."