Her interest could not have been keener if she had been a deputy herself with the existence of her party depending on it. She had her own views about it, all cut and dried; she explained her husband’s, which differed considerably; and she was anxious to hear mine. So anxious was she that she even forgot to smile when speaking to me--forgot, that is, that she was a woman and I a man able, if inclined, to admire her. I remember staring at her a moment in unfeigned astonishment, and then, leaning back in my chair, giving myself up to uncontrollable mirth. She watched me with surprise, which made me laugh still more. When I could speak she inquired whether any one at the table had said anything amusing, and seemed quite struck on my assuring her that it was she herself who was amusing. “I am?” said she; and a faint flush enhanced her prettiness. “Yes--you and the Education Bill together,” said I, again overcome with laughter. “It is indeed an amusing mixture. It is like,” I added, with happy readiness of compliment, “a rose in an inkpot.” “But is that amusing?” she asked, not in the least grateful for the flattery, and with a quite serious face. She had had her little lesson, however, and she did not again talk politics. Indeed, she did not again talk at all, but turned to the gentleman on her other side, and left me nothing to look at but a sweet little curl behind a sweet little ear. Now if she had been properly brought up to devote herself to the woman’s function of pleasing, how agreeably we could have discoursed together about that curl and that ear, and kindred topics, branching off into all sorts of flowery and seductive byways of compliment and insinuation, such as the well-trained young woman thoroughly enjoys and understands. I can only trust the lesson I gave her did her good. It certainly cured her of talking politics to me. Listening to the English pastor heating himself over the Licensing Bill which, with all politics, is surely as distinctly outside the pastoral province as it is outside the woman’s, I remembered this earlier success, and not caring to stand there unnoticed any longer thought I would repeat it. I therefore began to laugh, gently at first, as though tickled by my thoughts, then more heartily. They all stopped to look at me. “What is the joke, Baron?” asked Menzies-Legh, scowling up. “Forgive me, Pastor,” said I, taking off my hat and bowing--he for his part only stared--“but we are accustomed in my country (which, thank God, is Germany!) never to connect clergymen with politics, the inevitable wranglings of which make them ill-suited as a study for men whose calling is purely that of peace. So firmly is this feeling rooted in our natures that it is as amusing to me to see a gentleman of your profession deeply interested in such questions as it would be to see--to see----”