"I intended to have you understand that I enjoy the thought of your
reading to me. Did you catch it?"
"I caught it. No one else ever suggested that I was stupid."
"I didn't call you stupid. I think you're haughty and domineering, but
you're not stupid."
"Thank you," she answered, demurely.
Eventually they drew together, and she began to read the marvelous story
of the crucial experiments which Morselli and his fellows laid upon
Eusapia Palladino. Two hours passed. The robins and thrushes began their
evensong, the shadows lengthened on the lawn, and still these young folk
remained at their reading--Victor sitting so close to his teacher's side
that his cheek almost touched her shoulder. The sunset glory of the
material world was forgotten in the tremendous conceptions called up by
the author of this far-reaching book.
Sweeter hours of study Victor never had. Seeing the rise and fall of his
interpreter's bosom and catching the faint perfume of her hair, he heard
but vaguely some of the sentences, and had to have them repeated, what
time her eyes were looking straight into his. At such moment she
reminded him of the dream-face that had bloomed like a rose in the black
night, for she was then very grave. Less ardent of blood than he, she
succeeded in giving her whole mind to the great Italian's thesis, and
the point of view--so new and so bold--stirred her like a trumpet.
"I like this man," she said. "He is not afraid."
Once or twice Mrs. Joyce looked out at them, but they made such a pretty
picture she had not the heart to disturb them.
At seven o'clock she was forced to interrupt: "What _are_ you children
up to?"
"Improving our minds," answered Leo. "Are we starting back? What time is
it?"
Mrs. Joyce smiled. "That question is a great compliment to your company.
It's dinner-time."
"Are we starting now?"
"No; we're going to stay all night."
"Fine!" shouted Victor. "I was wondering how I could put in the
evening."
"It's time to dress," warned Mrs. Joyce. "This is no happy-go-easy
establishment. I never saw such perfection of service as Alexander
always has. I can't get it, or if I get it I can't keep it; while here,
with the master gone half the time, the wheels go like a chronometer."
"It's all due to Marie. She worshiped Mrs. Bartol, and she venerates Mr.
Bartol."