the worst. Fortunately for the gaiety of the age she lived in, no
one took her very seriously. Still, it must have been fairly galling
to have her turning up after every catastrophe with a conscious air of
'perhaps another time you'll believe what I say.'"

"I should have wanted to kill her."

"As Clytemnestra I believe you gratify that very natural wish."

"Then it has a happy ending, in spite of it being a tragedy?"

"Well, hardly," said Clovis; "you see, the satisfaction of putting a
violent end to Cassandra must have been considerably damped by the fact
that she had foretold what was going to happen to her. She probably
dies with an intensely irritating 'what-did-I-tell-you' smile on her
lips. By the way, of course all the killing will be done in the
Sumurun manner."

"Please explain again," said the Baroness, taking out a notebook and
pencil.

"Little and often, you know, instead of one sweeping blow. You see,
you are at your own home, so there's no need to hurry over the
murdering as though it were some disagreeable but necessary duty."

"And what sort of end do I have? I mean, what curtain do I get?"

"I suppose you rush into your lover's arms. That is where one of the
flying leaps will come in."

The getting-up and rehearsing of the play seemed likely to cause, in a
restricted area, nearly as much heart-burning and ill-feeling as the
election petition. Clovis, as adapter and stage-manager, insisted, as
far as he was able, on the charioteer being quite the most prominent
character in the play, and his panther-skin tunic caused almost as much
trouble and discussion as Clytemnestra's spasmodic succession of
lovers, who broke down on probation with alarming uniformity. When the
cast was at length fixed beyond hope of reprieve matters went scarcely
more smoothly. Clovis and the Baroness rather overdid the Sumurun
manner, while the rest of the company could hardly be said to attempt
it at all. As for Cassandra, who was expected to improvise her own
prophecies, she appeared to be as incapable of taking flying leaps into
futurity as of executing more than a severely plantigrade walk across
the stage.

"Woe! Trojans, woe to Troy!" was the most inspired remark she could
produce after several hours of conscientious study of all the available
authorities.

"It's no earthly use foretelling the fall of Troy," expostulated
Clovis, "because Troy has fallen before the action of the play begins.
And you