Dr. Bouthoin and Mr. Semhians are compelled to suspect themselves to be encompassed with rivals, presumptively supported by their Governments.  The worthy gentlemen had hoped to tumble into good fortune, as in the blessed old English manner.  ’It has even been thus with us:  unhelped we do it!’ exclaims the Rev. Doctor.  He is roused from dejection by hearing Mr. Semhians shyly (he has published verse) tell of the fairtressed Delphica’s phosphorial enthusiasm for our galaxy of British Poets.  Assisted by Mr. Semhians, he begins to imagine, that he has, in the person of this artless devotee an ally, who will, through her worship of our poets (by treachery to her sire-a small matter) sacrifice her guttural tongue, by enabling him (through the exercise of her arts, charms, intrigues—­also a small matter) to obtain the first audience of the Japanese erudites.  Delphica, with each of the rivals in turn, is very pretty Comedy.  She is aware that M. Falarique is her most redoubtable adversary, by the time that the vast fleet of steamboats (containing newspaper reporters) is beheld from the decks of the Polypheme puffing past Sandy Hook.

There Colney left them, for the next instalment of the serial.

Nesta glanced at Dudley Sowerby.  She liked him for his pained frown at the part his countrymen were made to play, but did wish that he would keep from expressing it in a countenance that suggested a worried knot; and mischievously she said:  ‘Do you take to Delphica?’

He replied, with an evident sincerity, ‘I cannot say I do.’

Had Mr. Semhians been modelled on him?

‘One bets on the German, of course—­with Colney Durance,’ Victor said to Dr. Themison, leading him over the grounds of Lakelands.

’In any case, the author teaches us to feel an interest in the rivals.  I want to know what comes of it,’ said the doctor.

’There’s a good opportunity, one sees.  But, mark me, it will all end in satire upon poor Old England.  According to Colney, we excel in nothing.’

’I do not think there is a country that could offer the entertainment for which I am indebted to you to-day.’

‘Ah, my friend, and you like their voices?  The contralto?’

‘Exquisite.’

Dr. Themison had not spoken the name of Radnor.

‘Shall we see you at our next Concert-evening in town?’ said Victor; and hearing ‘the privilege’ mentioned, his sharp bright gaze cleared to limpid.  ‘You have seen how it stands with us here!’ At once he related what indeed Dr. Themison had begun speculatively to think might be the case.