People forget so soon nowadays. We have all sorts of exiles
over in the States, and it don't seem to me as if anybody ever called
them back. Some of them have gone without being called, and then I think
they mostly got shot. But I hope your hero won't do that. Good-bye,
dear; come and see me soon, or I shall think you as mean as ever you can
be.' And the beautiful Duchess, bending her graceful head, departed, and
left Helena to her own reflections.

Somehow these were not altogether pleasant reflections. Helena did not
like the manner in which the Dictator had been discussed by the Duchess.
The Duchess talked of him as if he were just some ordinary adventurer,
who would be forgotten in his old domain if he did not keep knocking at
the door and demanding readmittance even at the risk of being shot for
his pains. This grated harshly on her ears. In truth, it is very hard to
talk of the loved one to loving ears without producing a sound that
grates on them. Too much praise may grate--criticism of any kind
grates--cool indifferent comment, even though perfectly free from
ill-nature, is sure to grate. The loved one, in fact, is not to be
spoken of as other beings of earth may lawfully and properly be spoken
of. On the whole, the loving one is probably happiest when the name of
the loved one is not mentioned at all by profane or commonplace lips.
But there was something more than this in Helena's case. The very
thought which the Duchess had given out so freely and so carelessly had
long been a lurking thought in Helena's own mind. Whenever it made its
appearance too boldly she tried to shut it down and clap the hatches
over it, and keep it there, suppressed and shut below. But it would come
up again and again. The thought was, Where is the Dictator? She could
recognise the bright talker, the intellectual thinker, the clever man of
the world, the polished, grave, and graceful gentleman, but where were
the elements of Dictatorship? It was quite true, as she herself had
said, had pleaded even, that some men never carry their great public
qualities into civil life; and Helena raked together in her mind all
manner of famous historical examples of men who had led great armies to
victory, or had discovered new worlds for civilisation to conquer, and
who appeared to be nothing in a drawing- or a dining-room but ordinary,
well-behaved, undemonstrative gentlemen. Why should not the Dictator be
one of these? Why, indeed? She was sure he