He hastily turned the conversation, commenting on the ballet they had just seen--a ballet of lust and blood. It had stepped from the pages of Sir Richard Burton, barbaric in colour and music--frankly sadistic. "This," he said, indicating the rows of brilliant and respectable people who had watched it, "is a feast indeed for the cynical. How many of these people realise what they have seen? How horrified they would be if you told them in plain English what they have just heard in plain music!" "You are a musician?" Peter asked politely. "Enough of a musician to know that even Sir Richard Burton never spoke plainer than this Russian fellow. It seems to me quite extraordinary that civilised people are able to sit serenely beside one another in a public place and hear things which they would blush to read in a private room." It was strange that this ballet should recall a chapter almost forgotten. Peter, looking at Lady Mary, saw again a cherry-coloured ribbon folded between the leaves of her brother's book. Peter knew she had not touched that old fever. He could not think of her as kindling him in that savage way. He saw himself forever humbly repeating the caress of adoration. Peter left at the end of the interval, fearing too eagerly to force himself. It was enough that he was to see Lady Mary again on the following day. XXXI Peter's appearance at Covent Garden precipitated in Wenderby an action upon whose brink he had stood for several weeks. He called upon Lady Mary in the morning and asked for her. She came into the room bravely affecting surprise. But too well she knew what was coming. "Lord Wenderby," she began, "this is wonderful." "That I should come to see you?" "I read in the _Times_ that a Cabinet was called for this morning. Surely you should be there." Wenderby shrugged his shoulders. "The Cabinet," he said, "will be happier as they are." "You say that bitterly." "It's bitter truth," he answered. "I'm in the wrong set." There was a short silence, and Lady Mary found it intolerable. "Have you come just to grumble and go?" she inquired at last. Wenderby paused a moment, as if looking for a way to open his mind; then he said abruptly: "I'm going to rat." "To leave the Cabinet?" Lady Mary exclaimed. She was now sincerely astonished. "Perhaps," said Wenderby, looking at her intently. "It's in my mind. Politics are going to be very violent during these next years. All my friends are with the Opposition. My position will be dreary and difficult." Lady Mary began to see his drift, and was dismayed at the sudden sinking of her spirit. "Why do you tell me this?" she asked. "I want you to help me," said Wenderby, and again he looked at her. "How can that be?" she protested, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not yet sure what I ought to do. I shall be giving up a great deal in leaving the Cabinet. I'm the youngest minister with a platform following. In a few years I should be leading the Party."