The old man indeed forgot his age, the girl her youth; they met as equals, on poetic ground, till suddenly Kitty, springing up, and to prove her point, began an imitation of Sarah in the great love-scene of the last act, before arresting fate, in the person of Don Ruy, breaks in upon the rapture of the lovers.  She absolutely forgot the Grosville drawing-room, the staring Grosville girls, the other faces, astonished or severe, neutral or friendly.  Out rolled the tide of tragic verse, fine poetry, and high passion; and though it be not very much to say, it must at least be said that never had such recitation, in such French, been heard before within the walls of Grosville Park.  Nor had the lips of any English girl ever dealt there with a poetic diction so unchastened and unashamed.  Lady Grosville might well feel as though the solid frame of things were melting and cracking round her.

Kitty ceased.  She fell back upon her chair, smitten with a sudden perception.

“You made me!” she said, reproachfully, to the Dean.

The Dean said another “Brava!” and gave another clap.  Then, becoming aware of Lord Grosville’s open mouth and eye, he sat up, caught his wife’s expression, and came back to prose and the present.

“My dear young lady,” he began, “you have the most extraordinary talent—­” when Lady Grosville advanced upon him.  Standing before him, she majestically signalled to her husband across his small person.

“William, kindly order Mrs. Wilson’s carriage.”

Lord Grosville awoke from his stupor with a jerk, and did as he was told.  Mrs. Wilson, the agent’s timid wife, who was not at all aware that she had asked for her carriage, rose obediently.  Then the mistress of the house turned to Lady Kitty.

“You recite very well, Kitty,” she said, with cold and stately emphasis, “but another time I will ask you to confine yourself to Racine and Corneille.  In England we have to be very careful about French writers.  There are, however, if I remember right, some fine passages in ‘Athalie.’”

Kitty said nothing.  The Austrian attache who had been following the little incident with the liveliest interest, retired to a close inspection of the china.  But the Dean, whose temper was of the quick and chivalrous kind, was roused.

“She recites wonderfully!  And Victor Hugo is a classic, please, my lady—­just as much as the rest of them.  Ah, well, no doubt, no doubt, there might be things more suitable.”  And the old man came wavering down to earth, as the enthusiasm which Kitty had breathed into him escaped, like the gas from a balloon.  “But, do you know, Lady Kitty “—­he struck into a new subject with eagerness, partly to cover the girl, partly to silence Lady Grosville—­“you reminded me all the time so remarkably—­in your voice—­certain inflections—­of your sister—­your step-sister, isn’t it?—­Lady Alice?  You know, of course, she is close to you to-day—­just the other side the park—­with the Sowerbys?”