Mein Herr looked uneasy. “I am _not_ in the Moon, my child,” he said evasively. “To return to what I was saying. I think _that_ method of government ought to answer _well_. You see, the Kings would be sure to make Laws contradicting each other: so the Subject could never be punished, because, _whatever_ he did, he’d be obeying _some_ Law.” “And, whatever he did, he’d be _dis_obeying _some_ Law!” cried Bruno. “So he’d _always_ be punished!” Lady Muriel was passing at the moment, and caught the last word. “Nobody’s going to be punished _here_!” she said, taking Bruno in her arms. “This is Liberty-Hall! Would you lend me the children for a minute?” “The children desert us, you see,” I said to Mein Herr, as she carried them off: “so we old folk must keep each other company!” The old man sighed. “Ah, well! We’re old folk _now_; and yet I was a child myself, once—at least I fancy so.” It _did_ seem a rather unlikely fancy, I could not help owning to myself—looking at the shaggy white hair, and the long beard—that he could _ever_ have been a child. “You are fond of young people?” I said. “Young _men_,” he replied. “Not of _children_ exactly. I used to teach young men—many a year ago—in my dear old University!” “I didn’t quite catch its _name_?” I hinted. “I did not name it,” the old man replied mildly. “Nor would you know the name if I did. Strange tales I could tell you of all the changes I have witnessed there! But it would weary you, I fear.” “No, _indeed_!” I said. “Pray go on. What kind of changes?” But the old man seemed to be more in a humour for questions than for answers. “Tell me,” he said, laying his hand impressively on my arm, “tell me something. For I am a stranger in your land, and I know little of _your_ modes of education: yet something tells me _we_ are further on than _you_ in the eternal cycle of change—and that many a theory _we_ have tried and found to fail, _you_ also will try, with a wilder enthusiasm: you also will find to fail, with a bitterer despair!” It was strange to see how, as he talked, and his words flowed more and more freely, with a certain rhythmic eloquence, his features seemed to glow with an inner light, and the whole man seemed to be transformed, as if he had grown fifty years younger in a moment of time. CHAPTER XII. FAIRY-MUSIC. The silence that ensued was broken by the voice of the musical young lady, who had seated herself near us, and was conversing with one of the newly-arrived guests. “Well!” she said in a tone of scornful surprise. “We _are_ to have something new in the way of music, it appears!” I looked round for an explanation, and was nearly as much astonished as the speaker herself: it was _Sylvie_ whom Lady Muriel was leading to the piano! “Do try it, my darling!” she was saying. “I’m sure you can play very nicely!”