Where had this creature of the dull English countryside learnt all
such frou-frou of gesture and tone?
'Have you ever seen Sarah Bernhardt?' I asked.
Now the average English woman would have inquired the genesis of so
inconsequent a question, but Lady Alicia followed the trend of my
thought, and answered at once as if my query had been quite
expected:--
'_Mais non_, monsieur. Sarah the Divine! Ah, she comes with my million
a year and the house of Hyde Park. No, the only inhabitant of my real
world whom I have yet seen is Monsieur Valmont, and he, alas! I find
so changeable. But now, adieu frivolity, we must be serious,' and she
walked sedately by my side.
'Do you know where you are going, monsieur? You are going to church.
Oh, do not look frightened, not to a service. I am decorating the
church with holly, and you shall help me and get thorns in your poor
fingers.'
The private road, which up to this time had passed through a forest,
now reached a secluded glade in which stood a very small, but
exquisite, church, evidently centuries older than the mansion we had
left. Beyond it were gray stone ruins, which Lady Alicia pointed out
to me as remnants of the original mansion that had been built in the
reign of the second Henry.
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