"It is better to laugh at it than to cry at it," said Marcantonio, without meaning anything.
"Why should I cry at it?" asked Leonora quickly. Her husband did not know how honestly she had shed tears and made herself miserable over it all.
"You laugh now," he answered, "but imagine a little. All philosophers are old and hideous, and wear"--
"For goodness' sake, Marchese," broke in Batiscombe, "do not paint the devil on the wall, as the Germans say."
"The Germans need not paint the devil," retorted Marcantonio, irrelevantly. "They need only look into the glass." He hated the whole race.
"You might as well say that Italians need not go to the theatre," put in Leonora, "because they are all actors." Her husband laughed good-humouredly.
"You might as well say," said Batiscombe, "that Englishmen need not keep horses because they are all donkeys. But please do not say it."
"No," said Leonora, "we will spare you. But you might say anything in the world of that kind. It has no bearing on my philosophy."
"That is true," answered Marcantonio. "I said that philosophers were old and hideous, but not that they were devils, actors, or donkeys. You suggest the idea. I think they are probably all three."
"Provided you do not think so after I have become a philosopher," said Leonora, "you may think what you please at present, mon ami."
"I think that you are altogether the most charming woman in the world," replied her husband, looking at her affectionately.
"Is it permitted to remark that the Marchese is not alone in that opinion?" inquired Batiscombe, politely.
"No," said Leonora, demurely, "it is not permitted. And observe that an English husband would not say that kind of thing in public, mon cher."
"Perhaps because they do not believe it in private," objected Marcantonio.
"More likely for the reason I suggested," observed Batiscombe, "that we are all donkeys."
"All?" asked Leonora. "But some of you are authors"--
"Mon Dieu! there are times"--began Marcantonio.
"When you believe it?" inquired Batiscombe, laughing.
"Ah, no! you are unkind; but times when I should like to be an Englishman."
"I have heard of such people," said Batiscombe, gravely, "but I have never met one. You interest me, Marchese."