all sat down, Mr. Barker on the bench by the ancient virgin, and
Claudius on the grass at Margaret's feet. It was noonday, but there was
a light breeze through, the flowers and grasses. The conversation soon
fell into pairs as they sat.

"I should not have said, at first sight, that you were a very
imaginative person, Dr. Claudius," said the Countess.

"I have been dreaming for years," he answered. "I am a mathematician,
and of late I have become a philosopher in a small way, as far as that
is possible from reading the subject. There are no two branches of
learning that require more imagination than mathematics and philosophy."

"Philosophy, perhaps," she replied, "but mathematics--I thought that was
an exact science, where everything was known, and there was no room for
dreaming."

"I suppose that is the general impression. But do you think it requires
no imagination to conceive a new application of knowledge, to invent new
methods where old ones are inadequate, to lay out a route through the
unknown land beyond the regions of the known?"

"Ordinary people, like me, associate mathematics with measurement and
figures and angles."

"Yes," said Claudius, "but it is the same as though you confused
religion with its practical results. If the religion is true at all, it
would be just as true if man did not exist, and if it consequently had
no application to life."

"I understand the truth of that, though we might differ about the word.
So you have been dreaming for years--and what were your dreams like?"
The Countess looked down earnestly at Claudius, who in his turn looked
at her with a little smile. She thought he was different from other men,
and he was wondering how much of his dreams he might tell her.

"Of all sorts," he answered, still looking up into her face. "Bitter and
sweet. I have dreamed of the glory of life and of mind-power, of the
accomplishment of the greatest good to the greatest number; I have
believed the extension of science possible 'beyond the bounds of all
imaginable experience' into the realms of the occult and hidden; I have
wandered with Hermes by the banks of the Nile, with Gautama along the
mud-flats of the Ganges. I have disgusted myself with the writings of
those who would reduce all history and religion to solar myths, and I
have striven to fathom the meaning of those whose thoughts are profound
and their hearts noble, but their speech halting. I have dreamed many
things, Countess,