without changing countenance.

"Are they the sort of things you ought to say you've seen?"

"I think most people do stop and see them, sir."

"What is your wish, my dear?" Sir Samuel gallantly deferred to his
bride. "I know you don't like out-of-door sightseeing when it's windy,
and blows your hair about, but--"

"We might try, and if I don't like it, we can go on," replied Lady
Turnour, patronizing the remains of Roman greatness, since it appeared
to be the "thing" for the nobility and gentry to do.

The chauffeur obediently turned the big blue Aigle, and let her sail
into the very centre of the vast arena where Caesar saw gladiators fight
and die.

It was very noble, very inspiring, and from some shady corner promptly
emerged a quaintly picturesque old guardian, ready to pour forth floods
of historic information. He introduced himself as a soldier who had seen
fighting in Mexico under Maximilian, therefore the better able to
appreciate and fulfil his present task. But her ladyship listened for
awhile with lack-lustre eyes, and finally, when dates were flying about
her ears like hail, calmly interrupted to say that she was "glad she
hadn't lived in the days when you had to go to the theatre out of
doors."

"I can't understand more than one word in twelve that the old thing
says, anyhow," she went on. "Elise must give me French lessons every day
while she does my hair. I hope she has the right accent."

"He's saying that this amphitheatre was once almost as large as the one
at Nimes, but that it would only hold about ten thousand spectators,"
explained the chauffeur, who was engaged partly for his French and
knowledge of France.

"It's nonsense bothering to know that now, when the place is tumbling to
pieces," sneered her ladyship.

"I beg your pardon, my lady; I only thought that, as a rule, the best
people do feel bound to know these things. But of course--" He paused
deferentially, without a twinkle in his eye, though I was pressing my
lips tightly together, and trying not to shake spasmodically.

"Oh, well, go on. What else does the old boy say, then?" groaned Lady
Turnour, _martyrisee_.

Mr. Bane or Dane didn't dare to glance at me. With perfect gravity he
translated the guide's best bits, enlarging upon them here and there in
a way which showed that he had independent knowledge of his own. And it
was a feather in his cap that his eloquence eventually interested Lady
Turnour. She made him tell her ag