“Do you know--such is my insularity--that I never knew you had a daughter or had had a wife?” she said abruptly, as she pushed the book away. “Dear Madame! you surely have not sent for me to speak of these two ladies?” he said, picking up the little red book. “My deceased wife’s name is here, if you chose to look for it; my daughter’s is not, because she exiled herself into the _haute finance_. I once had the entire collection of this Almanac since its beginning in 1760. If we want to see how despicably modern editions fall below the standard of all work of the last century, nothing will show us that fact more completely and conclusively than this Almanac. Contrast the commonplace portraits of to-day’s Gotha with the exquisite designs of the eighteenth century kalendars.” “Yes,” said Mouse shortly: “yes, no doubt. You are always right in matters of art. My dear Prince, how very admirably you have housed those people at Harrenden House. If only the birds were worthy the nest.” “Ah-ha! It was for this, was it, that you wanted to see me?” he thought, as he said aloud: “I suggested--I merely suggested. I am delighted the result meets your approval. They are excellent people, those good Massarenes. You remember that I told you so in Paris. _Des bons gens; de très bons gens._ A little uncouth, but the world likes what is simple and fresh.” She looked at him to see if he could really say all this with a serious countenance; she saw that he could; his handsome fair features were without the ghost of a smile and his whole expression was grave, sincere, attuned to admiring candor. “If he takes it like that I had best take it so too,” thought Mouse, who was aware that she was but a mere beginner and baby beside him in the delicate arts of dissimulation. But Nature had made her proud, inclined to be blunt and sarcastic, and occasionally unwisely inclined to frankness; she looked him straight in the eyes now, and said: “But you and I are going to do our duty to our fellow Christians, and polish them, aren’t we? I was quite straight with you about the purchase of Vale Royal; but you weren’t so straight with me about Harrenden House. Don’t you think, Prince, we can do our friends more good if we are friends ourselves? Quarreling is always a mistake.” He bowed and smiled. His smooth delicate features expressed neither annoyance nor pleasure, neither wonder nor surprise. “I am always Lady Kenilworth’s devoted servant,” he said graciously, with the air of a suzerain accepting homage. “I am sorry you think that I should have consulted you about the town-house,” he added. “It did not occur to me; you were in Egypt. I never offend or forget those who wish me well--of that you may be sure. It was amusing to arrange that house, and one could be of so much use to artists and other deserving people of talent.”