Sagittarius, in great agitation.
"His name! _Nomen volens_!" added Madame.
"That," said the Prophet, "I prefer not to say at present."
"But why should he desire to--?"
"Because you are a prophet."
"There, Jupiter!" cried Madame, with flushed spitefulness. "What have
I always said! All prophets are what they call outsiders--_hors
d'oeuvres_, neither more nor less."
"I know, my love, I know. But how should this gent recognise me for a
prophet? I'm sure my dress, my manner, are those of an outside broker,
as I have often told you, Sophy. How--"
"The gentleman has not yet recognised you," said the Prophet. "At the
moment he believes you to be an American syndicate."
"Thank mercy!" ejaculated Mr. Sagittarius.
"But one can never tell," added the Prophet. "He might find out."
"Nonsense!" cried Madame at this juncture. "We might quite well have
gone to the square yesterday as I always suspected. But you are so
timid, Jupiter. _Timeo Dan--Dan_--well, _Dan_ something or other, as
Virgil so truly says."
"Cautious, Sophronia, only cautious, for your and the children's sakes!"
"I call a man who's afraid even when he's passing everywhere as an
American syndicate a cowardly custard," rejoined Madame, who appeared to
be suffering under that peculiar form of flushed irritability which is
apt to follow on heavy thought, indulged in to excess in a recumbent
position during the daytime.
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