The Chronicles of Clovis/Wratislav

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Wratislav

THE Gräfin's two elder sons had made deplorable marriages. It was, observed Clovis, a family habit. The youngest boy, Wratislav, who was the black sheep of a rather greyish family, had as yet made no marriage at all.
"There is certainly this much to be said for viciousness," said the Gräfin, "it keeps boys out of mischief."
"Does it?" asked the Baroness Sophie, not by way of questioning the statement, but with a painstaking effort to talk intelligently. It was the one matter in which she attempted to override the decrees of Providence, which had obviously never intended that she should talk otherwise than inanely.
"I don't know why I shouldn't talk cleverly," she would complain; "my mother was considered a brilliant conversationalist."
"These things have a way of skipping one generation," said the Gräfin.
"That seems so unjust," said Sophie; ​"one doesn't object to one's mother having outshone one as a clever talker, but I must admit that I should be rather annoyed if my daughters talked brilliantly."
"Well, none of them do," said the Gräfin consolingly.
"I don't know about that," said the Baroness, promptly veering round in defence of her offspring. "Els

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