Chapter I

" COME on, old chap/' said Nevill, rising and blowing out of the pool. " Straight in. It's just gorgeous this morning."

"Head first?" questioned Jim, a slim shivering figure on the little wooden pier that jutted out over the bathing-pool.

" Of course."

" I — I think " began Jim.

" Don't think. Come on."

So Jim came on, and found himself neatly fielded as he rose, gasping. It really did require a little courage at his age. He could swim a little; but not very much; and the current was considerable here under the little fall that Nevill had designed here a couple of years ago, a hundred yards westward of the bridge where the trout had been so nearly caught a fortnight before.

Overhead the day was perfect. The risen sun, away to the east, shone straight down across the wide meadows that glittered as with diamonds. (Nevill had slipped off his shoes as he had come down with Jim ten minutes ago in his pyjamas, for the sheer delight of walking barefooted through the dew-dripping grass.) The tall trees above the bathing-place were motionless in the morning calm, but rang unceasingly with the song of birds; blackbirds scudded, scolding, from shrubbery to shrubbery; a thrush, visible against the sky, poured out a torrent of music from the top of a post, in full view of the swimmers, exactly as if he had been engaged to do it. A couple of bullocks, with a kind of rustic stupidity in their long faces, eyed the two splashing figures from over the post and rails that shut off the bathing-place from the open park, and swerved suddenly with heads down as Jim screamed with joy and gesticulated.

Nevill found it presently rather hard work battling up against the stream with Jim on his shoulders. He had had another of his headaches three days before, and felt a trifle invalidish still. These headaches made astonishing demands upon his strength.

" Look here, old chap," he gasped. " This is a bit too much. The stream's so... so jolly strong this morning. I'm going to drift down to the shallow end, and leave you there a bit."

Jim hammered at Cousin Nevill's head.

" No. Go on," he said.

" You little brute! Wait till I get you down."

He swerved in the stream, and with long easy strokes sped downwards. Jim prudently rolled off his shoulders as they neared the tail of the pool, and floundered to the bank. Nevill assured him he should not escape; and then turned once more and began to beat up stream.

The world looked extraordinarily delicious viewed from the surface of the clear-running current. Immediately in front of his eyes the long lines of water came racing down, bubbling crisply from below, bearing a little yellowish foam and blossoms as they came. The fall of the river was small enough: yet it sounded like thunder in his ears. The low green bank on the right, with the bullocks' heads still peering over, was as enchanting as the edge of a new world: the dark shadowed spaces under the beech-trees on the left, as mysterious as caverns; and overhead, between the masses of green, he could see that clear haze-veiled sky that promised great heat. It was an exultant, triumphant morning, warm and caressing, yet with just that sting of early coolness that was like the bubbles in champagne.

How frightfully hot London would be!... And, for a moment or two, he wished with all his heart that Enid could have managed to come down here instead of making him come to her. Then he remembered the lawyers, and Mrs. Bessington's social delights; and understood that it was impossible.

He was going up in time to lunch with them. (That was why he was bathing here with Jim before breakfast. He would have to leave a little after ten, as he must just go to his house first, in Elizabeth Street, to see that everything was in train for the little dinner this evening. The cook had already gone up to town with a maid or two. Aunt Anna had insisted upon this.) Then this afternoon, he remembered, they were all three to go to something or other: he rather thought it was Pictures: but wasn't sure; and this evening to the theatre. He had got the tickets all right, by the way.

He was sorry Aunt Anna wouldn't come with him; but she had been quite explicit. She would be entirely in the way, she said. Four was a much pleasanter number than five; and of course Nevill must have a male friend now and again — to entertain Mrs. Bessington, if nothing else. Algy Lennox would do for once or twice: he couldn't be a bore about his tennis, very well, in London at that time. Besides, she simply loathed London. She might perhaps run up for a day or two at the end, and take Jim to the Zoo. But, really, not more, if Nevill didn't mind. So it had been settled; and, although he was sorry she wouldn't come, he felt that there really was something to be said on her side.

Ah! how delicious the water was!

He turned on his back as he came up to the foot of the little eighteen-inch fall, just in that mystical part of a current which, itself very nearly motionless, is quick with a strange thrilling vitality from the plunge of air and water beneath — where the myriad bubbles rise hissing and hushing, and the surface of the water curves and heaves a little. (It is just behind that, by the way, that the trout lie and wait for the food that comes so fresh and enticing down the fall, right down to their level a foot or two above the bed of the stream.)

He shifted slowly from place to place, his head right back in the water, keeping himself afloat by slow paddling with his hands on either side. A film of water washed over his face once or twice; and he closed his eyes. Then with a rush against his limbs, the current caught him, and he whirled down, smiling, still with closed eyes, till all motion ceased. His eyelids glowed before his eyes, red and flaming, against the bright sky. His physical ecstasy was at its height.

When he had had enough he climbed out, dripping, on to the little pier. Jim was making a great to-do down there at the shallow end. He could see his head, now and again, very agitated, with yet more agitated heels winnowing the water four feet behind. He had meant to duck him; but it was too much trouble: he felt a pleasant languorous ache all over him; and a cigarette seemed absolutely necessary.

He waded through the wet grass to his pyjamas and towel, delighting in the brush of the long stems round his feet; dried himself lightly; slipped on his trousers and jacket; got out his case from the pocket, and then, blowing out aromatic clouds, he went back and sat down on the end of the pier, with his bare feet dangling. His head felt a little heavy. He thought he had been in the water too long.

" Cousin Nevill! " cried a shrill voice.

He turned to see; and, as he turned, a dimness, rather like a torn veil, drifted between him and the white little figure that, standing knee-deep in the shallows twenty yards away, was splashing furiously with both hands.,

It must be liver, he told himself. Really he ought to be ashamed of it — at his age. He rubbed his eyes quickly with his disengaged hand. Then he looked again. Yes; the dimness had gone.... No, it hadn't. It was forming again in shreds and patches.

Jim apparently wanted no answer: he had shouted out of sheer exhilaration. The splashing had ceased, and once more Nevill could make out — but only just make out — the head passing across the sunlit water.

Nevill stood up. He must take a turn or two. Perhaps the sunlit water had affected his eyes a little; perhaps he had caught just a shadow of a chill. As he turned up his trousers, a little tangle of black lines drifted over his hands, and went again. This was ridiculous. No; he wouldn't walk about; he would just lie still on the pier with his eyes shut. That would put him right.

A loud cackle of physical joy made him open them again; and there was Jim in the long grass, entirely unclothed, rolling and tossing to and fro.

" Oh! it does tickle so, Cousin Nevill."

Then as he looked at him, again that veil drifted suddenly across, and "for an instant he saw nothing immediately in front. Jim was gone in blankness. He could see the post where the thrush had been singing, away to the left, and the solemn lowered bullocks' heads on the right. There was nothing in between. Again he passed his hand over his eyes, rubbing them hard. Then he turned away again. Jim mustn't notice anything: he might tell his mother, and there would be a fuss.

" You'd better dress, old chap. You'll catch cold."

" Oooh..! " said Jim, in a long-drawn ecstasy.

" Come on, old man," said Nevill again. " I really mean it. And then we'll go a walk and get warm again."

" Will you come and shoot a rabbit? " demanded Jim.

" Well, we'll go and look for one," evaded Nevill. " Make haste."

He felt perfectly certain that the thing would pass. It had passed before all right. It was simply his liver; he had sat on the lawn all day yesterday instead of going for a ride. It was that; and the sun on the water — no more.

While Jim dressed in the white shirt and knickerbockers in which he had come down, Nevill sat very still with his back to him, keeping his eyes closed; and answering questions now and again.

" Will you take me with you as far as the village after breakfast, Cousin Nevill? "

" We'll see what your mother says," said Nevill with closed eyes. " Don't you ever do any lessons? "

" Oh! yes! " said Jim indifferently...." Cousin Nevill! "

"Well?"

" Why are you going to London? "

" To see Miss Bessington — Cousin Enid.", " Oh. Why do you want to see Miss Bessington — I mean Cousin Enid? "

" Because I like her very much."

"Oh! Why?"

It had been carefully explained to Jim that Cousin Nevill was going to marry Miss Bessington; and that he (Jim) would, in future, have to call her Cousin Enid. But Jim did not appear to realise that this involved any particular affection on anyone's part — even on Nevill's; it was as if Cousin Nevill was going to engage a new housekeeper— no more than that. He had shown no interest whatever in the event.

" Because she's very nice/' said Nevill carefully.

" Oh! " said Jim; as if he had encountered a brick wall.

" Buck up with your dressing, old man."

" I'm ready," said Jim.

The moment had come and Nevill opened his eyes.

For an instant all seemed well. The clear water ran smoothly and swiftly beneath; the cool dark spaces under the beeches opposite looked as they always had: he saw again a blackbird scurry across from one side to the other. Then the veil formed again, as if a hundred spiders were spinning black threads at full speed. Glimpses of light and colour showed between the meshes; but no more. Nevill shut his eyes again; and his heart sickened within him. He still kept his back turned to the boy.

" Jim, old man."

"Yes?"

"Look here; I've thought of a game. Let's pretend I'm a blind man."

" Oh! Do you think that would be funny? "

" You wait," said Nevill. " You haven't heard it yet. And you're my guide; you mustn't touch me; and I mustn't touch you. But you've got to guide me with your voice; and tell me where to go."... (He was inventing desperately. He was perfectly certain this thing would pass presently, and meantime Aunt Anna must know nothing. Then he heard the stable clock strike eight.) " We've lots of time. Every ten yards that I go without touching anything except the ground is one to you; and every time I touch anything, like a tree, it's one to me. I must keep my eyes tight shut all the time."

"Oh! Do you think that's a good game?" asked a doubtful voice.

" We'll try it, anyhow."

He felt for the edges of the pier with his hands, and carefully got to his feet. Then, a little unsteadily, he walked in the direction of Jim, until he felt the grass under his feet.

" Now, begin," he said. " You must carry the towels."

He felt it was not much of a success; but it was all that he could think of. Once when Jim screamed with sudden delight, as the blind man fell heavily over a log, he thought it might serve a bit longer, but he simply dared not open his eyes.

" Look here! you mustn't make me fall down on purpose," he said. " That's not the game. I shall count that three to me."

From that moment the game certainly flagged. Jim did not seem to find it funny. His voice grew more and more indifferent. Finally Nevill stopped.

"Where are we?" he said.

"What?"

" Where are we? " snapped the other, a little irritably.

" Oh, close to the bridge, Cousin Nevill."

" Very well, we'll stop the game as soon as I touch the bridge. And then we'll "

His voice faltered. What in God's name should he do if he couldn't see? And what, again in God's name, was the matter? His little headache had quite gone with the exercise. That was one encouragement. But what on earth should he do?

His hands touched the stonework.

" There/' he said, " you've won. Eleven to you and four to me."

Then he opened his eyes and waited.

There was the stonework under his hands; the sunlit water flowing swiftly beneath; the outer edge of the pavilion window just in sight; the gold and green of the park, splendid in sunlight. He still waited: and they remained as before. He rolled his eyes round, and again looked. It was all right.

" Why do you look like that, Cousin Nevill? "

"My dear boy; I've only just got my sight back. Now we'll do any mortal thing you like till a quarter to nine."

Ill

As the clock struck the half Hour they were sitting on the bench with their backs to the Georgian monument. Jim had decided that, as compensation for their extraordinarily stupid game of Blind Man, he would ride on Cousin Nevill's back up into the woods and look for the Holy Grail. This had been done, until the horse had explained that there were limits to everything — even to an unconditional promise— and that if the Holy Grail were not found by the time they reached the seat by the monument, it must remain lost.

Yet, as they sat there at last — Jim with an arm over his late horse's shoulders — Nevill really was not quite sure that he had not found it after all, or, at least, that he was not basking in its rose-red light.

The relief was amazing. His headache was gone; but that was nothing. Rather, there had lifted from him a horror whose weight he had not dared to appraise so long as it was on him. There had not come back to him even one floating shred or film of that fine spun black veil that had dimmed the glory of the stream and the morning; and, with that relief, physical joy had come back at a rush. He was sure, now, that the trouble could not be organic.

The very seat on which he sat seemed transfigured. He was looking out, panting a little, for the Quest had been breathlessly rapid, at the same view — the timbered foreground, the beech-trunks, the pine-tops, the bracken, the far-off line of the Downs — at which he had looked with Enid a fortnight ago, all lit with the morning light. Then he had sat there to say good-bye to her. Now he was sitting here on the morning of the day that was to bring him back to her again. He would see her in a little over four hours....

"Was the Holy Grail real?" asked Jim.

Nevill recalled his attention.

" Real! Oh, I suppose so. No; I should think it wasn't. It was a symbol."

" What's a symbol? "

" A symbol? Oh, well, it's rather hard to describe. It's... it's a sign of something that really is true — like a fairy-story — at least like some of them."

" Oh," said Jim. He seemed a little disappointed.

" And what is the thing that's really true? " he pursued presently.

Nevill jumped. He was thinking about something entirely different.

" How do you mean! Oh, I see. Well — religion, don't you know. That's what they were after."

"Did they find it?"

Nevill perceived it was necessary to attend. Jim's questions were sometimes most disconcertingly to the point.

Did they find it?

He reflected a moment; and, as he reflected, he heard three strokes from a bell come up from the direction of the house. That would be the Elevation. He stole a glance at Jim, who apparently had not heard it. And, at that instant, Nevill perceived that he really had arrived at a certain quite definite cross-road.

On the one side there was that for which the bell had spoken just now; on the other side, here was the murmur of the woods — like the murmur of the woods above Frascati. And he saw that these were two things, and not one; at least he could not conceive how they could be one. There seemed nothing to unite them, however deep one penetrated. On the one side there was the little Catholic church, where Anna, no doubt, was kneeling at this very moment — with its crucifix over the altar; its stations round the walls — an intellectualised and systematised abstraction from one side of life certainly, but not that side in which he himself really lived and breathed. On the other, here were these woods and these myriad flies dancing in the sunlight; this hum of life; these scents, inexpressibly sweet, of woodland and pine and a purified breeze from the sea. The two things were two things, not one. And the girl who had transfigured life to him was on this side, not that — why, he sat now in the very sanctuary which she had consecrated by her presence!

Did they find it?

" Jim, you've asked me a hard question. What do you mean, exactly? Lancelot found it, didn't he? And Sir Galahad?"

Jim sniffed.

" Yes: they found the Holjr Grail — in the fairy-story.

But did they find the... the thing that it meant? You told me that it was not real, but that something else was."

Jim was speaking a little drowsily: his head was leaning against Nevill. Nevill glanced down at him.

" Look round you, Jim. Don't you think we've found it ourselves, after all?"

Jim raised sleepy eyes obediently, and looked round.

" I don't know what you mean," he said.

" Well; these woods and... and the morning, and feeling so happy and — and the whole thing. What do you think makes you feel so happy? "

" God," said Jim, as if that settled it.

Nevill felt a touch of impatience.

" Yes, of course," he said. " This is all — all God, in a sort of way, isn't it? Well then, don't you think we've found the Holy Grail up here, after all? And if we've found it, then perhaps "

Jim's head nodded suddenly; and Nevill remembered that lecturing before breakfast is apt to have that effect, even on grown-up people.

As they came down to the house again, Jim once more riding on Nevill's shoulders, the physical Pan-given ecstasy was still triumphing in the young man's heart.

Aunt Anna met them on the lawn: she was just out of church, and had come round, as usual, through the gardens on her way back.

" Well, you're a pair! " she said.

It was, indeed, a joyous sight.

Right on Nevill's shoulders, without any compromise at all, sat her son. His bare brown legs came down over the young man's blue pyjama jacket and were grasped there by a capable sunburnt hand. His white silk shirt, with flapping sleeves, was behind Nevill's black curly head; and just above it his radiant flushed face and golden hair: he was urging his steed on with a towel. And as for Nevill, for all his six feet, he looked as much a boy as his rider; his black eyes were full of laughter; his parted lips showed his white teeth. He was barefooted, too; and his shoes were slung by a string over his neck.

There was a photograph of the Olympia group, of Praxiteles, in the morning-room at Hartley. Inevitably she remembered it: for this group was an astonishingly accurate translation of it into completely modern terms. It is true that Hermes wore blue pyjamas and had a towel round his waist; and that the infant Bacchus was in white flannel knickerbockers and rode upon the neck of the elder god; yet the spirit was precisely the same. It was a divine gaiety, straight from Olympus itself, prancing on the lawn of an English country house.

" You — you absolute Pagans! " she said.

Hermes' black eyes sparkled even more divinely.

" That's precisely it," he said. " And you're only a poor Christian! How shocking! "

She glanced with a little quick movement of her eyes at the face of the infant Bacchus; but it was occupied with other emotions than that of Pharisaic scandal.

" And we've been to find the Holy Grail," he said irrelevantly. He had no sense of the unities, it seemed.

"And did you find it?"

" Cousin Nevill said so, up in the woods. Go on, Pegasus! "

Bacchus beat with his bare heels, as on a drum, upon Hermes' chest.

"Don't!" gasped Hermes; "or I'll pinch them." (He closed his strong fingers tightly on the little crossed ankles.)

" Oooh! " said Bacchus. And then his feelings over-came him; and he rolled his face passionately in the black curls into which his hands were thrust.

" Oooh!... How j oily it all is! Go on, Pegasus, I promise not to kick."

" I think Pegasus had better," said Aunt Anna. " The gong will sound in exactly three minutes. And I'm sure Pegasus hasn't shaved; and... and Bacchus must brush his hair."

" Bacchus? " remarked Hermes-Pegasus questioningly.

" He looks like it. Go on."

They were different persons altogether at breakfast and yet the elder of the two children (as she said to herself) was no less radiant. But his radiance was of a different kind; and, indeed, a neat grey suit with a stand-up collar, and thin shoes and clocked socks have a very different effect from the pyjamas, and are even less appropriate to Hermes. Jim too was different; his hair had ruthlessly been brushed and resembled a neat aureole. He wore a holland jacket over his silk shirt, and sandals on his feet. Besides, he was entirely engaged in eating an egg according to the proper ceremonial of grown-up breakfasts; and had no attention for anything else. He sat in an absorbed silence, scooping out the egg and putting it carefully into his mouth, rolling his eyes once or twice to intercept any possible criticism.

" I don't want to be brutal," said Nevill. " But I feel like a schoolboy going home for the holidays. Why aren't there sausages? We always had sausages on the last morning at Stonyhurst."

" Because it's Friday, my dear boy."

"Lord! So it is! And I'm going out to lunch. And they're dining with me. Will Mrs. Ferguson remember? And if she doesn't — being upset with the journey yesterday, and all that — may I eat meat? I think I shall require it; because we're going to the theatre afterwards to see Selva. Ever seen Selva? "

Aunt Anna nodded.

" Once," she said. " She's... she's sublime. But I believe she's a most unpleasant person, with a frightful temper. But she can act! "

" Then don't talk scandal, my dear. What does it matter what she's like — so long as she can act? That's what I've paid five guineas for — (or was it ten?) — I don't pay for her temper."

" I expect somebody does, though," observed Aunt Anna.

" Don't be so brilliant, Aunt Anna. It makes my head "

He stopped short — remembering his little experience this morning.

" — Ache," he added firmly.

When he looked up, she was looking at him.

" Remember about the doctor," she said in a low voice.

" I shall remember to forget," said Nevill. " It's a sound plan."

" No, but "

" My dear, of course I shall go if there's the very faintest reason. But I really can't go, if I go on feeling as robust as I do now. I'm... I'm bursting with health. He'd think I was insulting him."

The departure was a little melancholy for Aunt Anna. Nevill's spirits seemed to rise steadily. He vanished after breakfast to see to one or two final things, and she heard him whistling in his bedroom, between snatches of conversation with Charleson. Then an aromatic smell of Turkish tobacco became sensible in the hall.

" I say — Shall I want two white waistcoats? Charleson says so."

She looked up from the Daily Mail which she was pretending to read in the hall; and he was leaning over the gallery. Apparently he had been about to come downstairs; for he stood now opposite the tall corniced door of his father's room.

"How can I tell?" she said. "You'd better do precisely what Charleson tells you! " (She wished he would-n't stand just there.)

" I mean evening ones," said Nevill.

" If you're going to be in town for three weeks, I should think you certainly will. I should take three."

" That's what Charleson says. But I draw the line at two. All right, Charleson, pack two."

A discreet cough and a murmur of assent indicated that Mr. Charleson had been invisibly assisting at the conversation.

"Do you hear, Charleson?" bawled Nevill.

" Yessir," came sharp and clear through the open bedroom door.

" Go back to your room and tell him properly," whispered Aunt Anna. She simply could not bear to see him standing just there. It looked as if it was his own room, somehow.

" I shall issue my orders from exactly where I please," observed the young man. " Is that Masterson below there?"

Masterson came out from the drawing-room.

" Masterson; you won't forget about my letters? Oh!

I told you that at breakfast. And about sending up that trout if Dane can — Oh! I told you that too. That's all, Masterson. I forgot. Sorry."

Aunt Anna went presently to see if the motor had come. The clock indicated that it ought to have done so. But there was no motor.

She stood at the porch a moment or two, waiting. This was the rather sombre side of the house, it will be remembered. The level flats of turf lay before her, cut by the straight drive, unrelieved by trees. The shrubberies on either side, especially the cypresses about the church, looked like troops of grave guardians of the right of way — like tall men, waiting. Then she heard the motor coming round from the stables, and turned into the house, hearing her name called loudly as she did so.

" My dear! What is the matter? "

" Where's the motor? Why hasn't it come? Give Paul a month's notice! "

He was standing again by the sinister door, whence, through one of the hall windows, he could command a view of the drive. He carried now a light coat over his arm and had his Panama hat on. Charleson, with a couple of suit-cases, was waiting meekly for an opportunity to pass.

" It's just coming. Don't fuss, my dear. And let Charleson go by."

" Sorry, Charleson. Is it really coming? Oh, yes, I hear it."

He was more radiant than ever as he kissed her good-bye.

Jim had appeared with the collies, who also, it seemed, must be kissed on their long noses. This was accomplished with some difficulty in the case of Jill, who wanted to do all the kissing herself.

" Cousin Nevill."

" Yes, my dear."

" May I come as far as the village? "

" Well, really, old man "

" No, Jim," said Aunt Anna firmly. " Remember lessons. Besides Cousin Nevill mustn't stop, he's late."

" Oh! Very well," said Jim superbly.

Her heart was very low as the young man climbed into the driver's seat, and Paul the chauffeur went to wind up the affair in front.

Yet she could not tell what she feared. That miserable passion of jealousy was at her heart again: it seemed an unbearable pain that he should go up like this, without her, in such tempestuous spirits. And he had scarcely said a word to persuade her to come with him! She mistrusted, therefore, every judgment; she told herself that she was wicked and uncharitable; that no one was without fault; that Enid after all, so far as she knew, had as few as anyone else; certainly fewer than this hateful critical being which she called herself. But it was unbearable for all that.

" Don't look so grave, Aunt Anna! " said Nevill with his hands in their long gauntlets, on the wheel.

" I shall go away and cry," she said. " And then I shall probably slap Jim."

Jim regarded her solemnly.

" Fasten those dogs up," she said. " Or they'll run after the motor."

Jim twisted the long leash round one of the pillars; just as Paul climbed up beside his master. • (Charleson and the luggage were behind. Charleson wore that peculiar air of humble detachment that quite perfect servants always do wear in such circumstances.) The motor's roar had sunk to a rapid purr.

Yes, the time really was come at last. He would be gone a full three weeks, she knew; and meantime Jim and she must entertain one another as best they could. Jim really could get some lessons done; that was one comfort. He was beside her now, and had taken her hand, as his manner was.

" Don't drive too fast," she said. " There's a lot of traffic near Croydon."

Nevill winked at her solemnly with one eye. Jill was beginning to yelp, spasmodically. Jack had sat down like a monument.

" I shall drive like Jehu," he said.

Then the motor moved off, and Jill's yelps became heartrending. Nevill kissed his gauntlet superbly, as he took the curve round into the straight.

She stood there watching. Jim, silent at last, was stroking very gently the inside of her hand which he still held. Masterson was behind her somewhere, also silent. The principal noise — since it drowned all the others — was the piercing wail of Jill who, with nose pointed westwards, lamented the departure of the one kind of vehicle at which she always barked. Jack, still sitting, regarded the empty drive philosophically, growling now and again, in the very lowest stratum of his throat.

Far away now, down the dwindling road, was the dwindling motor. He was, indeed, driving like Jehu. A cloud of dust bellied behind like a continuous explosion, through which, more and more faintly, twinkled points of light where the sun from over the house behind caught the bright brasswork and polish.

And then, as the last points vanished, she became aware that the noise of the dogs was quite unbearable.

She turned and looked; and there they both were, sitting together with elevated noses, raising a common lament.

" Stop those dogs! " she said sharply. Then she was ashamed of herself.

" Come along, my son," she said. " We must go and learn our lessons."