y house should have
included the prophet Isaiah, Plato, Francis Bacon, and Voltaire. It is
always your heaviest bore who is astonished at the tameness of modern
celebrities: naturally; for a little of his company has reduced them to
a state of flaccid fatigue. It is right and meet that there should be an
abundant utterance of good sound commonplaces. Part of an agreeable
talker's charm is that he lets them fall continually with no more than
their due emphasis. Giving a pleasant voice to what we are all well
assured of, makes a sort of wholesome air for more special and dubious
remark to move in.

Hence it seemed to me far from unbecoming in Felicia that in her first
dialogue with Hinze, previously quite a stranger to her, her
observations were those of an ordinarily refined and well-educated woman
on standard subjects, and might have been printed in a manual of polite
topics and creditable opinions. She had no desire to astonish a man of
whom she had heard nothing particular. It was all the more exasperating
to see and hear Hinze's reception of her well-bred conformities.
Felicia's acquaintances know her as the suitable wife of a distinguished
man, a sensible, vivacious, kindly-disposed woman, helping her husband
with graceful apologies written and spoken, and making her receptions
agreeable to all comers. But you would have imagined that Hinze had been
prepared by general report to regard this introduction to her as an
opportunity comparable to an audience of the Delphic Sibyl. When she had
delivered herself on the changes in Italian travel, on the difficulty of
reading Ariosto in these busy times, on the want of equilibrium in
French political affairs, and on the pre-eminence of German music, he
would know what to think. Felicia was evidently embarrassed by his
reverent wonder, and, in dread lest she should seem to be playing the
oracle, became somewhat confused, stumbling on her answers rather than
choosing them. But this made no difference to Hinze's rapt attention and
subdued eagerness of inquiry. He continued to put large questions,
bending his head slightly that his eyes might be a little lifted in
awaiting her reply.

"What, may I ask, is your opinion as to the state of Art in England?"

"Oh," said Felicia, with a light deprecatory laugh, "I think it suffers
from two diseases--bad taste in the patrons and want of inspiration in
the artists."

"That is true indeed," said Hinze, in an undertone of deep convict