"It was when I heard that your grandmother was a Frenchwoman I grasped everything. I remembered there was some story in the family about a younger son marrying a beautiful Parisienne. But it seemed to me it must be too far back to be possible. And then Lady Tilchester told me she was a very old woman. So we came over next day." "I wish you had seen more of grandmamma," I said. "You would have got on together. She used to say wonderful things sometimes." "I thought her the most lovely old lady I had ever seen." "Her maxims would fill a book as big as La Rochefoucauld." "What a pity you did not write them down!" "The Marquis and she had the _religion du beau_. They worshipped everything that was beautiful and suitable and refined. They never did anything for effect, only because the action was due to themselves and was a good action." I paused. "Go on, Comtesse," said Antony. "I like to hear it all." "They really believed in _noblesse oblige_. Neither of them would have stooped from their position--oh, not a little inch." "It is a thing we have quite forgotten in England. It was inconvenient, and most of us are not rich enough to indulge in it." "But must one be rich to behave as of one's race?" I asked, astonished. "Yes--or remain in the background, a good deal bored. To obtain the wherewithal to enjoy this rather expensive world, people stoop considerably nowadays." "And you don't think it dreadful?" "I am not a Crusader. Times have changed. One can keep one's own ideas and let others do as they please." "Grandmamma had a maxim like that. She said it was _bourgeois_ to be shocked and astonished at things. She believed in the difference of classes. No one could have persuaded her that the common people are made of the same flesh and blood as we are." "Tell me some more." "This was her idea of things generally: first of all, to have the greatest self-respect; to stoop to no meanness; to desecrate the body or mind in no way; to conquer and overcome all foolish emotions; to be unselfish, to be gay, to be courageous; to bear physical and moral pain without any outward show; to forever have in front of one that a straight and beautiful carriage must be the reflection of a straight and beautiful mind; to take pleasure in simple things, and to be contented with what one has got if it is impossible to obtain better--in short, never to run one's head against a stone wall or a feather-bed, but if a good thing is to be gained by patience, or perseverance, or concentration, to obtain it." "I am learning. Continue," said Antony, but there was no mock in his eyes. Only he smiled a little.