Seven o’clock also came. But it was a desolate company that sate them down to the toothsome viands and victuals which Mrs. Grimaldi, all unwitting of the catastrophe, had prepared. Conversation was faltering in the extreme, and all Mongo’s talk of the successes of Newdigate and Postlethwaite fell on empty air--who could forget that these triumphs were all obfuscated by the disaster of that evening. The party, so long anticipated as the social event of the Oxford year, limped along until at last the iced melon was removed. At last Mongo broached the dread topic. “Gaveston,” he began almost nervously, “of course it’s impossible now, after--well, after what’s happened. But I should tell you that the College had empowered me to offer you a fellowship.” Gaveston bowed across the table in silence. “You might,” said the aged Dean, “you might, like me, have captured the secret of unending youth and continued here in Oxford for ever, while Lent followed Michaelmas, and Michaelmas Trinity, and Trinity Hilary, and Hilary Lent--eternal among the transitory, my disciple and my successor. But now.…” Poor Mongo broke down.… And then Gaveston rose in his place, unable any longer to keep the party in this unhappy suspense. “Don’t, Mongo, don’t,” he started. “I owe you all an explanation. But after all--you might have known.… This was _not_ a failure. This was _not_ a _débâcle_. This was my greatest day! This was my greatest triumph!” His manner grew animated. “I thought I could no longer continue in Oxford. I thought I had drained the cup dry. Uncle Wilkinson” (he bowed to his uncle, who had been unsuccessfully trying to shock Lady Blandula with a tale about Félix Faure), “Uncle Wilkinson had procured for me from the Mikado, to whom on occasion he has been useful, the offer of an excellent educational post in his country. But I have refused it, by cablegram this morning. Mr. Arundel’s offer on behalf of Wallace College I have put out of court. No, I remain free, untrammelled. I can never graduate now.” “Oh, what _does_ the boy mean, Wilkie? Doesn’t he like the dear Mikado?” Lady Penhaligon was whispering. “He’s too clever for me, really.” “Nonsense, Julia,” answered Uncle Wilkie. “If he can’t pass this Divvers, egad, he can’t take a degree, y’ know.” “Don’t you realize?” Gav was continuing, “I have found the secret of eternal Youth. Summer will follow summer, and each year when the cuckoo leaves us, I shall go up again for Divvers. But never, never shall I allow myself to satisfy those examiners. No--year after year that magic Sesame of ‘Renan, Ernest Renan!’ will keep open for me the portals of the enchanted palace of Youth.” Mongo was looking distinctly brighter.