“Yes,” she said, “it’s terrible, but you will use your strength mercifully.”

“I’m not at all sure about that.  At first I felt like one of those old prisoner Johnnies—­Baron TRENCK, you know, or LATUDE—­who were all shaky and mild when they were at last released; but now I’ve had time to think—­yes, I’ve had time to think.”

“And what is the result of your thoughts?”

“The result,” I said, “is that I’m determined to do things thoroughly.  I’ve mastered all your jealously-guarded secrets and I’ve allowed the strong wind of a man’s intellect to blow through them.  I am facing the cook on a new system and am dealing with the tradesmen in a spirit of inexorable resolution.  The housemaid is being brought to heel and has already begun not to leave her brushes and dust-pans lying about on the floors of the library and the drawing-room.  Stern measures are being taken with the kitchen-maid; and Parkins, that ancient servitor, is slowly being reduced to obedience.  Even the garden is feeling the new influence and potatoes are being planted where no potatoes were ever planted before.  Everything, in fact, is being reformed.”

“I warn you,” said Francesca, “that your reforms will not be allowed to go on.  As soon as I can get rid of the German measles I shall restore everything to its former condition.”

“But that,” I said, “is the counter-revolution.”

“It is; and it’s going to begin as soon as I get out of bed.”

“And what are you going to bring out of bed with you?”

“Common sense,” said Francesca.

“Not at all,” I said.  “You’re going to bring out of bed with you that hard reactionary bureaucratic spirit which all but ruined Russia and is in process of ruining Germany.  It will be just as if the TSARITSA got loose and began to have her own way again.  By the way, Francesca, what does one do when the butcher says there won’t be any haunch of mutton till Tuesday, or when the grocer refuses you your due amount of sugar?”

“A TSARITSA,” said Francesca haughtily, “cannot concern herself with sugar or haunches of mutton.”

“But suppose that the TSARITSA has got German measles.  Couldn’t she manage to beat up an interest in mundane affairs?”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Francesca.

“Do,” I said; “I’m dying to hear it.”

“Well, you’d better let the strong wind of a man’s intellect blow through them.”

“What,” I said—­“through the haunch of mutton?”

“Yes, you could do without the haunch, you know, and score off the butcher.”

“That’s a sound idea.  You’re not so badly measled as I thought you were.”

“Oh,” she said, “I shall soon be rid of them altogether.”

“To tell you the truth, I wish you’d hurry up.”

“Long live the counter-revolution!”

“Oh, as long as you like,” I said.

“Have you given the children their medicine and taken their temperatures?”