The Mermaid in the Basement Read Online Free PDF Page B

a rather short man with a neatly trimmed beard, observant eyes, and a friendly demeanor. He smiled, took Serafina’s hand, and bent over and kissed it. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Viscountess.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Dickens. Might I say how much I enjoyed your book on the rulers of England.”
    “Very kind of you to say so.Which of my novels have you read?”
    “Oh, I never read fiction.”
    A silence fell on the room, and Dickens seemed stunned. “And why not, may I ask?”
    “I prefer reality to make-believe.”
    “That must cut you off from a great deal of pleasure. I find the world of art and literature invigorates me and amplifies reality.”
    “I’m sure it does for many people. Your success as a writer proves that. It’s just that my father educated me to be a scientific thinker, and I find it difficult to move in other realms. But I congratulate you on the success of your latest book, David Copperfield. Everyone is talking about it.”
    “I wish you would try it, Lady Trent. I’ll send you a copy.”
    “So kind of you, Mr. Dickens.”
    “And this is Mr. John Ruskin. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
    Ruskin was a man of medium height with mild blue eyes and an air of attentiveness.He kissed Serafina’s hand and then said, “I’m very happy to meet you, Lady Trent.”
    “I must confess I haven’t read your book, Mr. Ruskin. I have so many scientific books to read, I have little time for other areas.”
    “I assure you, you wouldn’t like it.” The speaker was a small man with quick black eyes and black hair to match.
    “This is Mr. Clarence Morton, the reporter for the London News ,” Sir Osric Wallace explained.
    “Why is it you think, sir, that I wouldn’t like Mr. Ruskin’s book?”
    “Because he likes the old and hates the new, and I think you are just the opposite.”
    “I don’t hate the new,” Ruskin said quickly. “I just think it’s ugly.”
    “You see, Viscountess? You like new inventions. Mr. Ruskin thinks that the older art was better because it was all done by hand. For example, he thinks the gargoyles on the Cathedral of Notre Dame are better because they were done by individual artists. Nowadays a factory would turn them out, and they would be exactly alike.”
    “And they would not be art,” Ruskin said, his eyes glowing with something like anger.
    Serafina stared at the man. “I see no value in badly made artifacts.”
    Ruskin was displeased. “It’s your privilege to think so, madam. I see art as a product of the human imagination, not the result of a machine.”
    “I’m afraid we will never agree, Mr. Ruskin. I believe in intellect and the machine.”
    Sir Osric was disturbed at the conflict and said quickly, “This is Lord Milburn, a leader in the House of Lords.”
    “I’m glad to meet you, Lord Milburn.”
    “And I you, Lady Trent.”
    “I’ve been reading about the Indian mutiny.”
    “Ah, yes, it’s a sad thing.”
    The papers had been full of the news of the Indian mutiny.Many of the native troops had rebelled against their British masters, and all of England was buzzing with ideas about what should be done.
    “It seems to me, if what I read is true,” Serafina said, “that the solution should be fairly simple.”
    “Politics are never simple,” Lord Milburn said rather stiffly.
    “In this case I must disagree. If I understand it correctly, the trouble began over the cartridges for the new infield rifle.”
    Lord Milburn stared at her. “That is true.”
    “I understand the bullets were greased with the fat of hogs and cows.”
    “That is correct.”
    “But our leadership should have known that the Muslims and the Hindus are forbidden to eat such things, and that the cartridges had to be bitten before they could be inserted in the muzzle.”
    “This is far too difficult for a layman to understand.”
    Mr. Morton, the reporter, laughed. “It seems simple enough when Lady Serafina explains it.”
    Quickly, Sir Osric