“What is it to be, Countess?” he asked.  “Am I to take up arms and sail out and conquer the universe, and bring it bound to your feet to do you homage; or shall I go back to my turret chamber in Heidelberg?”

“Your simile seems to me to be appropriate,” said Margaret.  “I am sure your forefathers must have been Vikings.”

“They were,” replied Claudius, “for I am a Scandinavian.  Shall I go out and plunder the world for your benefit?  Shall I make your universality, your general expression, woman, sovereign over my general expression, man?”

“Considering who is to be the gainer,” she answered, laughing, “I cannot well withhold my consent.  When will you begin?”

“Now.”

“And how?”

“How should I begin,” said he, a smile on his face, and the light dancing in his eyes, “except by making myself the first convert?”

Margaret was used enough to pretty speeches, in earnest and in jest, but she thought she had never heard any one turn them more readily than the yellow-bearded student.

“And Mr. Barker,” she asked, “will you convert him?”

“Can you look at him at this moment, Countess, and say you really think he needs it?”

She glanced at the pair on the bench, and laughed again, in the air, for it was apparent that Mr. Barker had made a complete conquest of Miss Skeat.  He had led the conversation about tribes to the ancient practices of the North American Indians, and was detailing their customs with marvellous fluency.  A scientific hearer might have detected some startling inaccuracies, but Miss Skeat listened with rapt attention.  Who, indeed, should know more about Indians than a born American who had travelled in the West?

The Countess turned the conversation to other subjects, and talked intelligently about books.  She evidently read a great deal, or rather she allowed Miss Skeat to read to her, and her memory was good.  Claudius was not behind in sober criticism of current literature, though his reading had been chiefly of a tougher kind.  Time flew by quickly, and when the two men rose to go their visit had lasted two hours.

“You will report the progress of your conquest?” said the Countess to Claudius as she gave him her hand, which he stooped to kiss in the good old German fashion.

“Whenever you will permit me, Countess,” he said.

“I am always at home in the middle of the day.  And you too, Mr. Barker, do not wait to be asked before you come again.  You are absolutely the only civilised American I know here.”

“Don’t say that, Countess.  There is the Duke, who came with me yesterday.”

“But he is English.”

“But he is also American.  He owns mines and prairies, and he emigrates semi-annually.  They all do now.  You know rats leave a sinking ship, and they are going to have a commune in England.”

“Oh, Mr. Barker, how can you!” exclaimed Miss Skeat.