He bowed profoundly.  ‘Oh, that I might say my Queen!’

The Countess replied:  ’A conviction of your lunacy would prevent my taking offence, though I might wish you enclosed and guarded.’

Without any further exclamations, Raikes acknowledged a superior.

‘And, now, attend to me,’ said the Countess.  ’Listen: 

You go yourself, or send your friends instantly to Fallow field.  Bring with you that girl and her child.  Stop:  there is such a person.  Tell her she is to be spoken to about the prospects of the poor infant.  I leave that to your inventive genius.  Evan wishes her here.  Bring her, and should you see the mad captain who behaves so oddly, favour him with a ride.  He says he dreams his wife is here, and he will not reveal his name!  Suppose it should be my own beloved husband!  I am quite anxious.’

The Countess saw him go up to the palings and hold a communication with his friends Franko and Fred. One took the whip, and after mutual flourishes, drove away.

‘Now!’ mused the Countess, ‘if Captain Evremonde should come!’ It would break up the pic-nic.  Alas! the Countess had surrendered her humble hopes of a day’s pleasure.  But if her mother came as well, what a diversion that would be!  If her mother came before the Captain, his arrival would cover the retreat; if the Captain preceded her, she would not be noticed.  Suppose her mother refrained from coming?  In that case it was a pity, but the Jocelyns had brought it on themselves.

This mapping out of consequences followed the Countess’s deeds, and did not inspire them.  Her passions sharpened her instincts, which produced her actions.  The reflections ensued:  as in nature, the consequences were all seen subsequently!  Observe the difference between your male and female Generals.

On reflection, too, the Countess praised herself for having done all that could be done.  She might have written to her mother:  but her absence would have been remarked:  her messenger might have been overhauled and, lastly, Mrs. Mel—­’Gorgon of a mother!’ the Countess cried out:  for Mrs. Mel was like a Fate to her.  She could remember only two occasions in her whole life when she had been able to manage her mother, and then by lying in such a way as to distress her conscience severely.

’If Mama has conceived this idea of coming, nothing will impede her.  My prayers will infuriate her!’ said the Countess, and she was sure that she had acted both rightly and with wisdom.

She put on her armour of smiles:  she plunged into the thick of the enemy.  Since they would not allow her to taste human happiness—­she had asked but for the pic-nic! a small truce! since they denied her that, rather than let them triumph by seeing her wretched, she took into her bosom the joy of demons.  She lured Mr. George Uplift away from Miss Carrington, and spoke to him strange hints of matrimonial disappointments, looking from time