very good Prime
Minister. He is over troubled by his conscience. I have seen a good
many Prime Ministers, Cantrip, and I've taught myself to think that
they are not very different from other men. One wants in a Prime
Minister a good many things, but not very great things. He should be
clever but need not be a genius; he should be conscientious but by no
means strait-laced; he should be cautious but never timid, bold but
never venturesome; he should have a good digestion, genial manners,
and, above all, a thick skin. These are the gifts we want, but we
can't always get them, and have to do without them. For my own part,
I find that though Smith be a very good Minister, the best perhaps to
be had at the time, when he breaks down Jones does nearly as well."

"There will be a Jones, then, if your Smith does break down?"

"No doubt. England wouldn't come to an end because the Duke of Omnium
shut himself up at Matching. But I love the man, and, with some few
exceptions, am contented with the party. We can't do better, and it
cuts me to the heart when I see him suffering, knowing how much I did
myself to make him undertake the work."

"Is he going to Gatherum Castle?"

"No;--to Matching. There is some discomfort about that."

"I suppose," said Lord Cantrip,--speaking almost in a whisper,
although they were closeted together,--"I suppose the Duchess is a
little troublesome."

"She's the dearest woman in the world," said the Duke of St. Bungay.
"I love her almost as I do my own daughter. And she is most zealous
to serve him."

"I fancy she overdoes it."

"No doubt."

"And that he suffers from perceiving it," said Lord Cantrip.

"But a man hasn't a right to suppose that he shall have no
annoyances. The best horse in the world has some fault. He pulls, or
he shies, or is slow at his fences, or doesn't like heavy ground.
He has no right to expect that his wife shall know everything and
do everything without a mistake. And then he has such faults of
his own! His skin is so thin. Do you remember dear old Brock? By
heavens;--there was a covering, a hide impervious to fire or steel!
He wouldn't have gone into tantrums because his wife asked too many
people to the house. Nevertheless, I won't give up all hope."

"A man's skin may be thickened, I suppose."

"No doubt;--as a blacksmith's arm."

But the Duke of St. Bungay, though he declared that he wouldn't give
up hope, was very uneasy on the matter. "Why won't you let m