"The French seem to have lost all sense of exactness," said Mrs.
Gradinger, "for the lines you have just read would not pass muster
as classic. In the penultimate line there are two syllables in
excess of the true Alexandrine metre, and the last line seems too
long by one. Neither Racine nor Voltaire would have taken such
liberties with prosody. I remember a speech in Phaedre of more
than a hundred lines which is an admirable example of what I mean.
I dare say some of you know it. It begins:--

"Perfide! oses-tu bien te montrer devant moi? Monstre,"

but before the reciter could get fairly under way the door
mercifully opened, and Sir John entered. He advanced towards the
Marchesa, and shook her warmly by the hand, but said nothing; his
heart was evidently yet too full to allow him to testify his relief
in words. He was followed closely by the Colonel, who, taking his
stand on the hearth-rug, treated the company to a few remarks,
couched in a strain of unwonted eulogy. In the whole course of his
life he had never passed a more pleasant ten days, though, to be
sure, he had been a little mistrustful at first. As to the outcome
of the experiment, if they all made even moderate use of the
counsels they had received from the Marchesa, the future of cookery
in England was now safe. He was not going to propose a formal vote
of thanks, because anything he could say would be entirely
insufficient to express the gratitude he felt, and because he
deemed that each individual could best thank the Marchesa on his or
her behalf.

There was a momentary silence when the Colonel ceased, and then a