CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.
Madame Pratolungo Returns to Dimchurch I REACHED London in the last week of Lucilla's residence under her aunt's roof, and waited in town until it was time to take her back to Dimchurch.
As soon as it had become obviously too late for Oscar to risk the dreaded meeting with Lucilla before strangers, his correspondence had, as a matter of course, assumed a brighter tone.

She was in high spirits once more, poor thing, when we met--and full of delight at having me near her again.

We thoroughly enjoyed our few days in London--and took our fill of music at operas and concerts.

I got on excellently well with the aunt until the last day, when something happened which betrayed me into an avowal of my political convictions.
The old lady's consternation, when she discovered that I looked hopefully forward to a coming extermination of kings and priests, and a general re-distribution of property all over the civilized globe, is unutterable in words.

On that occasion, I made one more aristocrat tremble.