“Not into the mud of the Nile, oh celestial Isis! but into the classic lore of Hellas.  Ask Mr. Palma why I am opposed to smuggling figs, especially rose-coloured figs?”

Olga’s light laugh was particularly irritating and disagreeable at that moment, and her mother, who was a ubiquitous flag of truce on such occasions, hastened to interpose.

“My daughter, what possible connection can Mrs. Carew or anybody else find between the habit of sycophancy and baskets of figs?”

“Dear mamma, to explain it to you might be construed into an unfilial and irreverent reflection upon the insufficiency of your education, and of that admission nothing could induce me to be guilty.  But Regina yonder is still in the clutches of Dominie Sampson, and as she is such an innocent stupid young dove, I will have mercy upon her curiously questioning eyes.  My dear rustic ‘Maud,’ Sycophants means fig-blabbers; and when you are patient enough to study, and wise enough to appreciate Plutarch, you will learn the derivation of the title which justly belongs to multitudes of people.”

Making as near an approach to a grimace as the lines of grace (which she never violated) would permit, Mrs. Carew lifted one shoulder almost out of its satin fetters, and turned to her host.

“Miss Neville should have reigned at the Hotel de Rambouillet when precieuse was more honoured than now.  I fear if society suspected the vastness of her learning, it would create a panic wherever she goes.”

Olga was leaving the room, had almost reached the door, but at the last words turned, and her face sparkled mischievously.

“Beautiful Egypt is acquainted with sphinxes, and should be quick at guessing riddles.  Will Cleopatra or Antony answer my conundrum?  When my erudition creates a panic, why am I like those who dwelt about Chemmis, when the tragical fate of Osiris was accomplished?”

Mr. Palma answered promptly: 

“Because the Pans who inhabited that region were the first who learned of the disaster, and as they spread the fatal news among the people, all sudden public frights and shocks have been ever since called panics.  The carriage is ready.  We shall be late at the wedding.  Olga, where is your shawl?”

As they quitted the room together, he added in an undertone: 

“Your Parthian warfare would have justified me in returning your arrow, but I was never an expert in the use of small arms.”

With her hand upon the balustrade of the stairs, which she was ascending, Olga looked down on him, and her eyes blazed with an intensity of scorn and defiance.

“To your empty quiver, not your leniency, I am indebted for my safety.  Your arrows were all skilfully barbed, and even the venom of asps distilled upon them; but you have done your worst, and failed.  Parthian tactics ill suit my temper, let me tell you, and just now I should infinitely prefer the Scythian style.  Were I only for one brief hour Tomyris, I would carry your head, sir, where she held that of Cyrus, in a bag.”