s politely disagreed with him; then, to change
the subject, she talked of some of the humours and incidents of
their stay in Vienna--the types of Viennese society--the Emperor, the
beautiful mad Empress, the Archdukes, the priests--and also of
some hurried visits to Hungarian country houses in winter, of the
cosmopolitan luxury and refinement to be found there, ringed by
forests and barbarism.

Fenwick listened greedily, and presently inquired whether Mr. Welby
had shared in all these amusements.

'Oh yes. He was generally the life and soul of them.'

'I suppose he made lots of friends--and got on with everybody?'

Madame de Pastourelles assented--cautiously.

'That's all a question of manners,' said Fenwick, with sudden
roughness.

She gave a vague 'Perhaps'--and he straightened himself aggressively.

'I don't think manners very important, do you?'

'Very!' She said it, with a gay firmness.

'Well, then, some of us will never get any,' his tone was surly--'we
weren't taught young enough.'

'Our mothers teach us generally--all that's wanted!'

He shook his head.

'It's not as simple as that. Besides--one may lose one's mother.'

'Ah, yes!' she said, with quick feeling.

And presently a little tact, a few questions on her part had brought
out some of his own early history--his mother's death--his years of
struggle with his father. As he talked on--disjointedly--painting
hard all the time, she had a vision of the Kendal shop and its
customers--of the shrewd old father, moulded by the business, the
avarice, the religion of an English country town, with a Calvinist
contempt for art and artists--and trying vainly to coerce his sulky
and rebellious son.

'Has your father seen these pictures?' She pointed to the 'Genius
Loci' on its further easel--and to the portrait.

'My father! I haven't spoken to him or seen him for years.'

'Years!' She opened her eyes. 'Is it as bad as that?'

'Aye, that's North-Country. If you've once committed yourself, you
stick to it--like death.'

She declared that it might be North-Country, but was none the less
barbarous. However, of course it would all come right. All the
interesting tales of one's childhood began that way--with a cruel
father, and a rebellious son. But they came to magnificent ends,
notwithstanding--with sacks of gold and a princess. Diffident, yet
smiling, she drew conclusions. 'So, you see, you'll make money--you'll
be an R.A.--you'll _marry_--and Mr.