n his own view of the twentieth century. He felt he needed
a constructive ideal of conduct to sustain him through the long
pilgrimage that must ensue after these hushed Oxford dreams.

Term was nearly over. Michael had heard from Stella that she was going
to spend two or three months in Germany. Her Brahms recitals, she wrote,
had not been so successful as she ought to have made them. In London she
was wasting time. Mother was continually wanting her to come to the
theater. It seemed almost as if mother were trying to throw her in the
way of marrying Prescott. He had certainly been very good, but she must
retreat into Germany, and there again work hard. Would not Michael come
too? Why was he so absurdly prejudiced against Germany? It was the only
country in which to spend Christmas.

The more Stella praised Germany, the more Michael felt the need of going
to a country as utterly different from it as possible. He did not want
to spend the vacation in London. He did not want his mother to talk
vaguely to him of the advantage for Stella in marrying Prescott. The
idea was preposterous. He would be angry with his mother, and he would
blurt out to Prescott his dislike of such a notion. He would thereby
wound a man whom he admired and display himself in the light of the
objectionably fraternal youth. In the dreary and wet murk of December
the sun-dried volumes of Cervantes spoke to him of Spain.

Maurice Avery came up to his room, fatigued with fame and disappointed
that Castleton with whom he had arranged to go to Rome had felt at the
last moment he must take his mother to Bath. To him Michael proposed
Spain.

"But why not Rome?" Maurice argued. "As I originally settled."

"Not with me," Michael pointed out. "I don't want to go to Rome now. I
always feel luxuriously that there will occur the moment in my life when
I shall say, 'I am ready to go to Rome. I must go to Rome.' It's a fancy
of mine and nothing will induce me to spoil it by going to Rome at the
wrong moment."

Maurice grumbled at him, told him he was affected, unreasonable, and
even hinted Michael ought to come to Rome simply for the fact that he
himself had been balked of his intention by the absurdly filial
Castleton.

"I do think mothers ought not to interfere," Maurice protested. "My
mother never interferes. Even my sisters are allowed to have their own
way. Why can't Mrs. Castleton go to Bath by herself? I'm sure Castleton
overdoes this 'duty' pose. An