Leo Christopher Quotes

Captain Phelan,” Cam asked, choosing his words with care. “Have you come to ask for our consent to marry Beatrix?” Christopher shook his head. “If I decide to marry Beatrix, I’ll do it with or without your consent.” Leo looked at Cam. “Good God,” he said in disgust. “This one’s worse than Harry.

With all due respect," Christopher muttered, "this conversation is leading nowhere. At least one of you should point out that Beatrix deserves a better man." "That's what I said about my wife," Leo remarked. "Which is why I married her before she could find one.

When Christopher finished, there was a moment of silence. Leo looked at Cam expectantly. “Well?” “Well what?” “Now is the time when you dredge up one of your blasted Romany sayings. Something about roosters laying eggs, or pigs dancing in the orchard. It’s what you always do. Let’s have it.” Cam gave him a sardonic glance. “I can’t think of one right now.” “By God, I’ve had to listen to hundreds of them. And Phelan doesn’t have to hear even one?

I swear I couldn't love you more than I do right now, and yet I know I will tomorrow.

I beg your pardon?” Catherine interrupted. “Are you implying that women have poor judgment?” “In these matters, yes.” Leo gestured to Christopher. “Just look at the fellow, standing there like a bloody Greek god. Do you think she chose him because of his intellect?” “I graduated from Cambridge,” Christopher said acidly. “Should I have brought my diploma?” “In this family,” Cam interrupted, “there is no requirement of a university degree to prove one’s intelligence. Lord Ramsay is a perfect example of how one has nothing to do with the other.

I'll make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.

I swear I couldn’t love you more than I do right now, and yet I know I will tomorrow. — Leo Christopher

There are going to be days when you're undone, stressed out, tired spent. And I'll still love you just as much in those moments as I ever have, maybe even a little more, because it'll mean you let me get close enough to know the real you. That's all I want.

She opened her eyes and didn't wonder anymore. He tells her everyday how beautiful she is to him, that she is his favorite, his only his love. That when the sun comes up every morning he chooses her and that he always will. And today, for whatever reason she rested in his reassurance. She finally released all the broken promises in her past and believed she could trust her heart just this once more.

There are plenty of ways to die, but only love can kill and keep you alive to feel it.

There is a madness in loving you, a lack of reason that makes it feel so flawless.

At least two important conservative thinkers, Ayn Rand and Leo Strauss, were unbelievers or nonbelievers and in any case contemptuous of Christianity. I have my own differences with both of these savants, but is the Republican Party really prepared to disown such modern intellectuals as it can claim, in favor of a shallow, demagogic and above all sectarian religiosity? Perhaps one could phrase the same question in two further ways. At the last election, the GOP succeeded in increasing its vote among American Jews by an estimated five percentage points. Does it propose to welcome these new adherents or sympathizers by yelling in the tones of that great Democrat bigmouth William Jennings Bryan? By insisting that evolution is 'only a theory'? By demanding biblical literalism and by proclaiming that the Messiah has already shown himself? If so, it will deserve the punishment for hubris that is already coming its way. (The punishment, in other words, that Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson believed had struck America on Sept. 11, 2001. How can it be that such grotesque characters, calling down divine revenge on the workers in the World Trade Center, are allowed a respectful hearing, or a hearing at all, among patriotic Republicans?). [. . . And Why I'm Most Certainly Not! -- The Wall Street Journal, Commentary Column. May 5, 2005]

I swear I couldn't love you more than I do right now; yet I know I will tomorrow.

There's a certain amount of ambiguity in my background, what with intermarriages and conversions, but under various readings of three codes which I don’t much respect (Mosaic Law, the Nuremberg Laws, and the Israeli Law of Return) I do qualify as a member of the tribe, and any denial of that in my family has ceased with me. But I would not remove myself to Israel if it meant the continuing expropriation of another people, and if anti-Jewish fascism comes again to the Christian world—or more probably comes at us via the Muslim world—I already consider it an obligation to resist it wherever I live. I would detest myself if I fled from it in any direction. Leo Strauss was right. The Jews will not be 'saved' or 'redeemed.' (Cheer up: neither will anyone else.) They/we will always be in exile whether they are in the greater Jerusalem area or not, and this in some ways is as it should be. They are, or we are, as a friend of Victor Klemperer's once put it to him in a very dark time, condemned and privileged to be 'a seismic people.' A critical register of the general health of civilization is the status of 'the Jewish question.' No insurance policy has ever been devised that can or will cover this risk.

Sometimes we aren't meant to get over someone, and we go on living a little bit emptier.

There are very few things we know with complete and utter certainty, so relax humanity.

Separating from the group in the middle of the room, Win came to Christopher and gave him her hand. “Captain Phelan. How lucky we are to be gaining you as a brother. The men in the family have been quite outmatched--four to five. Now you’ll make our total an even ten.” “I still feel outmatched,” Leo said. Merripen approached Christopher, shook his hand with a strong grip, and gave him an appraising glance. “Rohan says you’re not bad, for a gadjo,” he said. “And Beatrix says she loves you, which inclines me to let you marry her. But I’m still considering it.” “If it makes any difference,” Christopher said, “I’m willing to take all of her animals.” Merripen considered that. “You can have her.

Phelan,” Cam said, looking up with an easy smile, “have you come to see the timber yard?” “Thank you, but I’m here for another reason.” Leo, who was standing near the window, glanced from Christopher’s rumpled attire to Beatrix’s disheveled condition. “Beatrix, darling, have you taken to going off the estate dressed like that?” “Only this once,” she said apologetically. “I was in a hurry.” “A hurry involving Captain Phelan?” Leo’s sharp gaze moved to Christopher. “What do you wish to discuss?” “It’s personal,” Christopher said quietly. “And it concerns your sister.” He looked from Cam to Leo. Ordinarily there would have been no question concerning which one of them to approach. As lord of the manor, Leo would have been the first choice. However, the Hathaways seemed to have settled on an unconventional sharing of roles. “Which one of you should I talk to?” Christopher asked. They pointed to each other and replied at the same time. “Him.

With all due respect,” Christopher muttered, “this conversation is leading nowhere. At least one of you should point out that Beatrix deserves a better man.” “That’s what I said about my wife,” Leo remarked. “Which is why I married her before she could find one.

She blinked up at him in confusion. “What happened?” “The horse reared and fell.” Christopher’s voice came out in a rasp. “Tell me your name.” “Why are you asking me that?” “Your name,” he insisted. “Beatrix Heloise Hathaway.” She looked at him with round blue eyes. “Now that we know who I am…who are you?” At Christopher’s expression, Beatrix snickered and wrinkled her nose impishly. “I’m teasing. Really. I know who you are. I’m perfectly all right.” Over Christopher’s shoulder, Beatrix caught sight of Leo shaking his head in warning, drawing a finger across his throat.

You and Beatrix haven’t known each other long enough to consider matrimony. A matter of weeks, to my knowledge. And what about Prudence Mercer? You’re practically betrothed, aren’t you?” “Those are valid points,” Christopher said. “And I will answer them. But you should know right away that I’m against the match.” Leo blinked in bemusement. “You mean you’re against a match with Miss Mercer?” “Well…yes. But I’m also against a match with Beatrix.” Silence fell over the room. “This is a trick of some sort,” Leo said. “Unfortunately, it’s not,” Christopher replied. Another silence. “Captain Phelan,” Cam asked, choosing his words with care. “Have you come to ask for our consent to marry Beatrix?” Christopher shook his head. “If I decide to marry Beatrix, I’ll do it with or without your consent.” Leo looked at Cam. “Good God,” he said in disgust. “This one’s worse than Harry.” Cam wore an expression of beleaguered patience. “Perhaps we should both talk to Captain Phelan in the library. With brandy.” “I want my own bottle,” Leo said feelingly, leading the way.

Sup, guys,” Will said. “This is your new brother, Leo—um, what’s your last name?” “Valdez.” Leo looked around at the other campers. Was he really related to all of them? His cousins came from some big families, but he’d always just had his mom—until she died. Kids came up and started shaking hands and introducing themselves. Their names blurred together: Shane, Christopher, Nyssa, Harley (yeah, like the motorcycle). Leo knew he’d never keep everybody straight. Too many of them. Too overwhelming. None of them looked like the others—all different face types, skin tone, hair color, height. You’d never think, Hey, look, it’s the Hephaestus Bunch! But they all had powerful hands, rough with calluses and stained with engine grease. Even little Harley, who couldn’t have been more than eight, looked like he could go six rounds with Chuck Norris without breaking a sweat.

The Hathaways could only attribute their newfound popularity to the fact that Christopher, England’s most admired war hero, would be attending. And Christopher, with his unconcealed loathing of crowds, was glum about the entire matter. “You must admit,” Leo remarked, “it’s rather amusing that the one of us least inclined to mingle in society is the one all of society wants to mingle with.” “Sod off, Ramsay,” Christopher muttered, and Leo grinned.

In the case of Leo, however, Beatrix assured Christopher that in spite of his sharp tongue, Leo was a caring and loyal brother. "You'll come to like him very well," she said. "But it's no surprise that you feel more comfortable around Cam- you're both foxes." "Foxes?" Christopher had repeated, amused. "Yes. I can always tell what kind of animal a person would be. Foxes are hunters, but they don't rely on brute strength. They're subtle and clever. Fond of outwitting others. And although they sometimes travel far, they always like to come back to a snug, safe home." "I suppose Leo is a lion," Christopher said dryly. "Oh, yes. Dramatic, demonstrative, and he hates being ignored. And sometimes he'll take a swipe at you. But beneath the sharp claws and the growls, he's still a cat." "What animal are you?" "A ferret. We can't help collecting things. When we're awake, we're very busy, but we also like to be still for long periods." She grinned at him. "And ferrets are very affectionate.

Phelan,” Cam said, looking up with an easy smile, “have you come to see the timber yard?” “Thank you, but I’m here for another reason.” Leo, who was standing near the window, glanced from Christopher’s rumpled attire to Beatrix’s disheveled condition. “Beatrix, darling, have you taken to going off the estate dressed like that?” “Only this once,” she said apologetically. “I was in a hurry.” “A hurry involving Captain Phelan?” Leo’s sharp gaze moved to Christopher. “What do you wish to discuss?” “It’s personal,” Christopher said quietly. “And it concerns your sister.” He looked from Cam to Leo. Ordinarily there would have been no question concerning which one of them to approach. As lord of the manor, Leo would have been the first choice. However, the Hathaways seemed to have settled on an unconventional sharing of roles. “Which one of you should I talk to?” Christopher asked. They pointed to each other and replied at the same time. “Him.” Cam spoke to Leo. “You’re the viscount.” “You’re the one who usually deals with that sort of thing,” Leo protested. “Yes. But you won’t like my opinion on this one.” “You’re not actually considering giving them your approval, are you?” “Of all the Hathaway sisters,” Cam said equably, “Beatrix is the one most suited to choose her own husband. I trust her judgment.” Beatrix gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Cam.” “What are you thinking?” Leo demanded of his brother-in-law. “You can’t trust Beatrix’s judgment.” “Why not?” “She’s too young,” Leo said. “I’m twenty-three,” Beatrix protested. “In dog years I’d be dead.” “And you’re female,” Leo persisted. “I beg your pardon?” Catherine interrupted. “Are you implying that women have poor judgment?” “In these matters, yes.” Leo gestured to Christopher. “Just look at the fellow, standing there like a bloody Greek god. Do you think she chose him because of his intellect?” “I graduated from Cambridge,” Christopher said acidly. “Should I have brought my diploma?” “In this family,” Cam interrupted, “there is no requirement of a university degree to prove one’s intelligence. Lord Ramsay is a perfect example of how one has nothing to do with the other.” “Phelan,” Leo said, “I don’t intend to be offensive, however--” “It’s something that comes naturally to him,” Catherine interrupted sweetly.

The debate seems to come right out of the pages of Christopher Cerf and Victor Navasky’s The Experts Speak: Well-informed people know it is impossible to transmit the voice over wires and that were it possible to do so, the thing would be of no practical value. —Editorial, The Boston Post, 1865 Fifty years hence . . . [w]e shall escape the absurdity of growing a whole chicken in order to eat the breast or wing, by growing these parts separately under a suitable medium. —Winston Churchill, 1932 Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible. —Lord Kelvin, pioneer in thermodynamics and electricity, 1895 [By 1965] the deluxe open-road car will probably be 20 feet long, powered by a gas turbine engine, little brother of the jet engine. —Leo Cherne, editor-publisher of The Research Institute of America, 1955 Man will never reach the moon, regardless of all future scientific advances. —Lee Deforest, inventor of the vacuum tube, 1957 Nuclear powered vacuum cleaners will probably be a reality within 10 years. —Alex Lewyt, manufacturer of vacuum cleaners, 1955 The one prediction coming out of futurology that is undoubtedly correct is that in the future today’s futurologists will look silly.

And yet we have an never-ending series of politicians and political leaders who believe that they can not only make choices for their population, but override the will of the population whenever they see fit.  The justifications will vary – guns will be banned on grounds of public safety, for example, while drugs will be banned on grounds of personal health – yet the underlying motive will remain the same.  -Professor Leo Caesius, Authority, Power and the Post-Imperial Era

This may seem absurd – after all, the motives are good.  But you may also wish to remember the parable of the cooked frog.  When dropped into boiling water, the frog jumped out and fled – scalded, but alive; when dropped into a slowly heating pot, the frog stayed put until it was too late.  And the cook had boiled frog for dinner.  It is rare for freedoms to be lost overnight.  Instead, they are traded away, piece by piece, until it is too late. -Professor Leo Caesius, Authority, Power and the Post-Imperial Era

In the excitement of all these revelations, Phelan, one could easily be swept away. Are you very sure of your feelings for Beatrix? Because she is-" "Unique," Leo supplied. "I know that." Christopher felt his mouth twitch with a trace of humor. "I know that she steal things unintentionally. She wears breeches, and references Greek philosophers, and has read far too many veterinary manuals. I know that she keeps the kinds of pets that other people pay to have exterminated." Thinking of Beatrix, he felt an ache of yearning. "I know that she could never reside in London, that she could only thrive by living close to nature. I know that she is compassionate, intelligent, and brave, and the only thing she truly fears is being abandoned. And I would never do that, because I happen to love her to distraction.

Well … yes. But I’m also against a match with Beatrix.” Silence fell over the room. “This is a trick of some sort,” Leo said. “Unfortunately, it’s not,” Christopher replied. Another silence. “Captain Phelan,” Cam asked, choosing his words with care. “Have you come to ask for our consent to marry Beatrix?” Christopher shook his head. “If I decide to marry Beatrix, I’ll do it with or without your consent.” Leo looked at Cam. “Good God,” he said in disgust. “This one’s worse than Harry.

a particular liking to Leo’s butt and used it as a trampoline.

Later in the evening, trays of champagne were brought out, and the assembled guests waited expectantly for the betrothal announcement to be made. Unfortunately, the man designated to do it was temporarily missing. After a brief search, Leo was found and urged into the drawing room, where he launched into a charming toast and listed any number of amusing reasons for marriage. Although most of the guests listened with close attention and chuckled throughout, Christopher heard a pair of women gossiping nearby, whispering in disapproving undertones. “…Ramsay was found flirting in the corner with a woman. They had to drag him away from her.” “Who was it?” “His own wife.” “Oh, dear.” “Yes. How unseemly for a married couple to carry on so.” “I suppose the Hathaways know no better.” Christopher suppressed a grin and fought the temptation to turn and inform the two old hens that the Hathaways actually did know better. They just didn’t give a damn.

While Christopher went to the front of the church to wait at the altar, Beatrix remained at the back with Leo. "Beatrix,” her brother asked, “what did you do to Hector?” “He’s a flower mule,” she said reasonably. “I hope it won’t distress you to learn that he’s eating his hat.” Beatrix stifled a giggle. Bending his head over hers, Leo murmured, “When I give you away at the altar, Bea, I want you to remember something. I’m not really giving you away. I’m merely allowing him the chance to love you as much as the rest of us do.” Beatrix’s eyes watered, and she leaned against him. “He does,” she whispered. “I think so, too,” her brother whispered back. “I wouldn’t let you marry him otherwise.

It was nearly time for dinner, which made it likely that both Leo and Cam would have concluded their work for the day. Beatrix wished that she’d had time to prepare her family for the situation. She was fervently glad that Merripen was still in Ireland, because he tended to view all outsiders with suspicion, and he would not have made the situation easier for Christopher. And Leo might have objections. The best option was to approach Cam, who was by far the most reasonable male in the family. However, when Beatrix tried to make suggestions to Christopher about whom to approach and what to say, he interrupted her with a kiss and told her that he would manage it on his own. “Very well,” Beatrix said reluctantly. “But I warn you, they may be resistant to the match.” “I’m resistant to the match,” Christopher informed her. “At least we’ll have that in common.

Which one of you should I talk to?” Christopher asked. They pointed to each other and replied at the same time. “Him.” Cam spoke to Leo. “You’re the viscount.” “You’re the one who usually deals with that sort of thing,” Leo protested. “Yes. But you won’t like my opinion on this one.” “You’re not actually considering giving them your approval, are you?” “Of all the Hathaway sisters,” Cam said equably, “Beatrix is the one most suited to choose her own husband. I trust her judgment.” Beatrix gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Cam.” “What are you thinking?” Leo demanded of his brother-in-law. “You can’t trust Beatrix’s judgment.” “Why not?” “She’s too young,” Leo said. “I’m twenty-three,” Beatrix protested. “In dog years I’d be dead.” “And you’re female,” Leo persisted. “I beg your pardon?” Catherine interrupted. “Are you implying that women have poor judgment?” “In these matters, yes.” Leo gestured to Christopher. “Just look at the fellow, standing there like a bloody Greek god. Do you think she chose him because of his intellect?” “I graduated from Cambridge,” Christopher said acidly. “Should I have brought my diploma?” “In this family,” Cam interrupted, “there is no requirement of a university degree to prove one’s intelligence. Lord Ramsay is a perfect example of how one has nothing to do with the other.” “Phelan,” Leo said, “I don’t intend to be offensive, however--” “It’s something that comes naturally to him,” Catherine interrupted sweetly. Leo sent his wife a scowl and returned his attention to Christopher. “You and Beatrix haven’t known each other long enough to consider matrimony. A matter of weeks, to my knowledge. And what about Prudence Mercer? You’re practically betrothed, aren’t you?” “Those are valid points,” Christopher said. “And I will answer them. But you should know right away that I’m against the match.” Leo blinked in bemusement. “You mean you’re against a match with Miss Mercer?” “Well…yes. But I’m also against a match with Beatrix.” Silence fell over the room. “This is a trick of some sort,” Leo said. “Unfortunately, it’s not,” Christopher replied. Another silence. “Captain Phelan,” Cam asked, choosing his words with care. “Have you come to ask for our consent to marry Beatrix?” Christopher shook his head. “If I decide to marry Beatrix, I’ll do it with or without your consent.” Leo looked at Cam. “Good God,” he said in disgust. “This one’s worse than Harry.” Cam wore an expression of beleaguered patience. “Perhaps we should both talk to Captain Phelan in the library. With brandy.” “I want my own bottle,” Leo said feelingly, leading the way.

You mean you’re against a match with Miss Mercer?” “Well…yes. But I’m also against a match with Beatrix.” Silence fell over the room. “This is a trick of some sort,” Leo said. “Unfortunately, it’s not,” Christopher replied.

Captain Phelan,” Cam asked, choosing his words with care. “Have you come to ask for our consent to marry Beatrix?” Christopher shook his head. “If I decide to marry Beatrix, I’ll do it with or without your consent.” Leo looked at Cam. “Good God,” he said in disgust. “This one’s worse than Harry.” Cam wore an expression of beleaguered patience. “Perhaps we should both talk to Captain Phelan in the library. With brandy.” “I want my own bottle,” Leo said feelingly, leading the way.

I’ve invited Captain Phelan to join us,” Beatrix announced. “He doesn’t want to talk. Do not ask him direct questions unless absolutely necessary.” The rest of the family received this unorthodox pronouncement without turning a hair. A footman was dispatched to set a place for him. “Come in, Phelan,” Leo said easily. “We love silent guests--it allows us to talk all the more. By all means, sit and say nothing.” “But if you can manage it,” Catherine added with a smile, “ try to look impressed by our wit and intelligence.” “I will attempt to add to the conversation,” Christopher ventured, “if I can think of anything relevant.” “That never stops the rest of us,” Cam remarked.

Captain Phelan,” Amelia asked, noticing the direction of his gaze, “what do you think of the change in Albert?” “Nearly inconceivable,” Christopher replied. “I had wondered if it would be possible to bring him from the battlefield to a peaceful life here.” He looked at Beatrix, adding gravely, “I am in your debt.” Beatrix colored and smiled down at her plate. “Not at all.” “My sister has always had a remarkable ability with animals,” Amelia said. “I’ve always wondered what would happen if Beatrix took it in her head to reform a man.” Leo grinned. “I propose we find a really revolting, amoral wastrel, and give him to Beatrix. She would set him to rights within a fortnight.” “I have no wish to reform bipeds,” Beatrix said. “Four legs are the absolute minimum. Besides, Cam has forbidden me to put any more creatures in the barn.” “With the size of that barn?” Leo asked. “Don’t say we’ve run out of room?” “One has to draw the line somewhere,” Cam said. “And I had to after the mule.” Christopher looked at Beatrix alertly. “You have a mule?” “No,” she said at once. Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, but the color seemed to leave her face. “It’s nothing. That is, yes, I have a mule. But I don’t like to discuss him.” “I like to discuss him,” Rye volunteered innocently. “Hector is a very nice mule, but he has a weak back and he’s sickle-hocked. No one wanted him after he was born, so Aunt Beatrix went to Mr. Caird and said--” “His name is Hector?” Christopher asked, his gaze locked on Beatrix. She didn’t answer. A strange, severe sensation took over Christopher’s body. He felt every hair lift, felt every distinct pulse of blood in his veins. “Did his sire belong to Mr. Mawdsley?” he asked. “How did you know?” came Rye’s voice. Christopher’s reply was very soft. “Someone wrote to me about it.” Lifting a glass of wine to his lips, Christopher tore his gaze from Beatrix’s carefully blank face. He did not look at her for the rest of the meal. He couldn’t, or he would lose all self-control.

She blinked up at him in confusion. “What happened?” “The horse reared and fell.” Christopher’s voice came out in a rasp. “Tell me your name.” “Why are you asking me that?” “Your name,” he insisted. “Beatrix Heloise Hathaway.” She looked at him with round blue eyes. “Now that we know who I am…who are you?” At Christopher’s expression, Beatrix snickered and wrinkled her nose impishly. “I’m teasing. Really. I know who you are. I’m perfectly all right.” Over Christopher’s shoulder, Beatrix caught sight of Leo shaking his head in warning, drawing a finger across his throat. She realized too late that it probably hadn’t been an appropriate moment for teasing. What to a Hathaway would have been a good chuckle was positively infuriating to Christopher. He glared at her with incredulous wrath. It was only then that she realized he was shaking in the aftermath of his terror for her. Definitely not the time for humor. “I’m sorry--” she began contritely. “I asked you not to train that horse,” Christopher snapped, “and you agreed.” Beatrix felt instantly defensive. She was accustomed to doing as she pleased. This was certainly not the first time she’d ever fallen from a horse, nor the last. “You didn’t ask that specifically,” she said reasonably, “you asked me not to do anything dangerous. And in my opinion, it wasn’t.” Instead of calming Christopher, that seemed to enrage him even further. “In light of the fact that you were nearly flattened like a pikelet just now, I’d say you were wrong.” Beatrix was intent on winning the argument. “Well, it doesn’t matter in any case, because the promise I made was for after we married. And we’re not married yet.” Leo covered his eyes with his hand, shook his head, and retreated from her vision. Christopher gave her an incinerating glare, opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. Without another word, he lifted himself away from her and went to the stable in a long, ground-eating stride. Sitting up, Beatrix stared after him in perplexed annoyance. “He’s leaving.” “It would appear so.” Leo came to her, extended a hand down, and pulled her up. “Why did he leave right in the middle of a quarrel?” Beatrix demanded, dusting off her breeches with short, aggravated whacks. “One can’t just leave, one has to finish it.” “If he had stayed, sweetheart,” Leo said, “there’s every chance I would have had to pry his hands from around your neck.” Their conversation paused as they saw Christopher riding from the stables, his form straight as a blade as he spurred his horse into a swift graceful canter. Beatrix sighed. “I was trying to score points rather than consider how he was feeling,” she admitted. “He was probably frightened for me, seeing the horse topple over like that.” “Probably?” Leo repeated. “He looked like he had just seen Death. I believe it may have touched off one of his bad spells, or whatever it is you call them.” “I must go to him.” “Not dressed like that.” “For heaven’s sake, Leo, just this one time--” “No exceptions, darling. I know my sisters. Give any one of you an inch, and you’ll take a mile.” He reached out and pushed back her tumbling hair. “Also…don’t go without a chaperone.” “I don’t want a chaperone. That’s never any fun.” “Yes, Beatrix, that’s the purpose of a chaperone.” “Well, in our family, anyone who chaperoned me would probably need a chaperone more than I do.” Leo opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Rare was the occasion when her brother was unable to argue a point. Repressing a grin, Beatrix strode toward the house.

As so often had happened in battle, Christopher’s instincts took over completely, prompting action at a speed faster than thought. He heard nothing, but he felt his throat vibrate with a hoarse cry, while his body vaulted over the paddock fence. Beatrix reacted from instinct as well. As the horse began to fall, she yanked her booted feet from the stirrups and pushed away from him in midair. She hit the ground and rolled twice, thrice, while the horse’s body crashed beside her…missing her by a matter of inches. As Beatrix lay still and dazed, the maddened horse struggled to its feet, its hooves pounding the ground beside her with skull-splitting force. Christopher snatched her up and carried her to the side of the paddock, while Leo approached the enraged horse and somehow managed to grab the reins. Lowering Beatrix to the ground, Christopher searched her for injuries, running his hands over her limbs, feeling her skull. She was panting and wheezing, the breath having been knocked out of her. She blinked up at him in confusion. “What happened?” “The horse reared and fell.” Christopher’s voice came out in a rasp. “Tell me your name.” “Why are you asking me that?” “Your name,” he insisted. “Beatrix Heloise Hathaway.” She looked at him with round blue eyes. “Now that we know who I am…who are you?

I think Phelan and Beatrix should wait,” Leo said. “Nothing will be lost by waiting.” “I don’t know about that,” Cam said. “As the Rom say, ‘Take too much time, and time will take you.’” Leo looked smug. “I knew there would be a saying.” “With all due respect,” Christopher muttered, “this conversation is leading nowhere. At least one of you should point out that Beatrix deserves a better man.” “That’s what I said about my wife,” Leo remarked. “Which is why I married her before she could find one.

Beatrix knew that she would get precious little rest that night, her mind too engaged with worries and questions to allow for sleep. Christopher had not stayed for dinner, but had left soon after his talk with Cam and Leo. Amelia, who had come downstairs after having put Alex to bed, made no attempt to hide her pleasure in the news. “I like him,” she said, hugging Beatrix and drawing back to view her with a smile. “He seems to be a good and honorable man.” “And brave,” Cam added. “Yes,” Amelia replied soberly, “one can’t forget what he did in the war.” “Oh, I didn’t mean that,” Cam told her. “I was referring to the fact that he’s willing to marry a Hathaway sister.” Amelia stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned. The relationship between the pair was so comfortable, and yet spiced with playfulness and flirtation. Beatrix wondered if she and Christopher could ever achieve anything similar, if he would relinquish enough of his defenses to allow her to be close to him. Frowning, Beatrix sat next to Amelia. “I keep asking about the conversation Cam and Leo had with Christopher, and it seems nothing was decided or resolved. All they did was drink brandy.” “We assured Phelan that we were more than happy to let him have you and your menagerie,” Leo retorted. “After that, he said he needed to think.” “About what?” Beatrix demanded. “What is there to think about? Why is it taking him so long to make a decision?” “He’s a man, dear,” Amelia explained kindly. “Sustained thinking is very difficult for them.” “As opposed to women,” Leo retorted, “who have the remarkable ability to make decisions without doing any thinking at all.

I asked you not to train that horse,” Christopher snapped, “and you agreed.” Beatrix felt instantly defensive. She was accustomed to doing as she pleased. This was certainly not the first time she’d ever fallen from a horse, nor the last. “You didn’t ask that specifically,” she said reasonably, “you asked me not to do anything dangerous. And in my opinion, it wasn’t.” Instead of calming Christopher, that seemed to enrage him even further. “In light of the fact that you were nearly flattened like a pikelet just now, I’d say you were wrong.” Beatrix was intent on winning the argument. “Well, it doesn’t matter in any case, because the promise I made was for after we married. And we’re not married yet.” Leo covered his eyes with his hand, shook his head, and retreated from her vision.

He’s leaving.” “It would appear so.” Leo came to her, extended a hand down, and pulled her up. “Why did he leave right in the middle of a quarrel?” Beatrix demanded, dusting off her breeches with short, aggravated whacks. “One can’t just leave, one has to finish it.” “If he had stayed, sweetheart,” Leo said, “there’s every chance I would have had to pry his hands from around your neck.” Their conversation paused as they saw Christopher riding from the stables, his form straight as a blade as he spurred his horse into a swift graceful canter. Beatrix sighed. “I was trying to score points rather than consider how he was feeling,” she admitted. “He was probably frightened for me, seeing the horse topple over like that.” “Probably?” Leo repeated. “He looked like he had just seen Death. I believe it may have touched off one of his bad spells, or whatever it is you call them.” “I must go to him.” “Not dressed like that.” “For heaven’s sake, Leo, just this one time--” “No exceptions, darling. I know my sisters. Give any one of you an inch, and you’ll take a mile.” He reached out and pushed back her tumbling hair. “Also…don’t go without a chaperone.” “I don’t want a chaperone. That’s never any fun.” “Yes, Beatrix, that’s the purpose of a chaperone.” “Well, in our family, anyone who chaperoned me would probably need a chaperone more than I do.” Leo opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Rare was the occasion when her brother was unable to argue a point. Repressing a grin, Beatrix strode toward the house.

Aside from leaving out a few intimate details, Christopher told them everything. He was unsparing when it came to his own flaws, but he was determined to protect Beatrix from criticism, even from her own family. “It’s not like her to play games,” Leo said, shaking his head after Christopher told them about the letters. “God knows what possessed her to do such a thing.” “It wasn’t a game,” Christopher said quietly. “It turned into something more than either of us expected.” Cam regarded him with a speculative gaze. “In the excitement of all these revelations, Phelan, one could easily be swept away. Are you very sure of your feelings for Beatrix? Because she is--” “Unique,” Leo supplied. “I know that.” Christopher felt his mouth twitch with a trace of humor. “I know that she steals things unintentionally. She wears breeches, and references Greek philosophers, and has read far too many veterinary manuals. I know that she keeps the kinds of pets that other people pay to have exterminated.” Thinking of Beatrix, he felt an ache of yearning. “I know that she could never reside in London, that she could only thrive by living close to nature. I know that she is compassionate, intelligent, and brave, and the only thing she truly fears is being abandoned. And I would never do that, because I happen to love her to distraction. But there is one problem.” “What is that?” Leo asked. Christopher answered in a bleak syllable. “Me.” Minutes ticked by as Christopher explained the rest of it…his inexplicable behavior since the war, the symptoms of a condition that seemed akin to madness. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised that they received the information without apparent alarm. But it made him wonder: what kind of family was this? When Christopher finished, there was a moment of silence. Leo looked at Cam expectantly. “Well?” “Well what?” “Now is the time when you dredge up one of your blasted Romany sayings. Something about roosters laying eggs, or pigs dancing in the orchard. It’s what you always do. Let’s have it.” Cam gave him a sardonic glance. “I can’t think of one right now.” “By God, I’ve had to listen to hundreds of them. And Phelan doesn’t have to hear even one?

When Christopher finished, there was a moment of silence. Leo looked at Cam expectantly. “Well?” “Well what?” “Now is the time when you dredge up one of your blasted Romany sayings. Something about roosters laying eggs, or pigs dancing in the orchard. It’s what you always do. Let’s have it.” Cam gave him a sardonic glance. “I can’t think of one right now.” “By God, I’ve had to listen to hundreds of them. And Phelan doesn’t have to hear even one?” Ignoring Leo, Cam turned his attention to Christopher. “I believe the problems you’ve described will lessen as time passes.” He paused. “Our brother Merripen would attest to that, if he were here.” Christopher looked at him alertly. “He never fought in a war,” Cam continued quietly, “but violence and damage are hardly limited to the battlefield. He had his own demons to fight, and he conquered them. I see no reason why you can’t do the same.” “I think Phelan and Beatrix should wait,” Leo said. “Nothing will be lost by waiting.” “I don’t know about that,” Cam said. “As the Rom say, ‘Take too much time, and time will take you.’” Leo looked smug. “I knew there would be a saying.

I think Phelan and Beatrix should wait,” Leo said. “Nothing will be lost by waiting.” “I don’t know about that,” Cam said. “As the Rom say, ‘Take too much time, and time will take you.’” Leo looked smug. “I knew there would be a saying.” “With all due respect,” Christopher muttered, “this conversation is leading nowhere. At least one of you should point out that Beatrix deserves a better man.” “That’s what I said about my wife,” Leo remarked. “Which is why I married her before she could find one.” He smiled slightly as he contemplated Christopher’s glowering face. “So far, I haven’t been all that impressed by your flaws. You drink more than you should, you have trouble controlling your impulses, and you have a temper. All of those are practically requirements in the Hathaway family. I suppose you think Beatrix should marry a quiet young gentleman whose idea of excitement is collecting snuffboxes or writing sonnets. Well, we’ve tried that, and it hasn’t worked. She doesn’t want that kind of man. Apparently what she wants is you.” “She’s too young and idealistic to know better,” Christopher said. “I fault her judgment.” “So do I,” Leo shot back. “But unfortunately none of my sisters let me pick their husbands for them.” “Easy, the two of you,” Cam interceded calmly. “I have a question for you, Phelan…if you decide to wait indefinitely before proposing marriage to Beatrix…do you intend to continue seeing her in the meantime?” “Yes,” Christopher said honestly. “I don’t think anything could keep me away from her. But we’ll be circumspect.” “I doubt that,” Leo said. “The only thing Beatrix knows about being circumspect is how to spell it.” “Before long there would be gossip,” Cam said, “and criticism, which would harm Beatrix’s reputation. With the result that you would have to marry her anyway. There’s not much point in delaying the inevitable.” “Are you saying you want me to marry her?” Christopher asked incredulously. “No,” Cam replied, looking rueful. “But I can’t say I’m all that fond of the alternative. Beatrix would be miserable. Besides, which one of us will volunteer to tell her that she’s going to have to wait?” All three were silent.

Sometimes you need to step off the worn path, lay down with your eyes up to the blue sky, interlock your fingers behind your head and let the grace grow up around you.

Forgive me. I merely came to—” “I’ve invited Captain Phelan to join us,” Beatrix announced. “He doesn’t want to talk. Do not ask him direct questions unless absolutely necessary.” The rest of the family received this unorthodox pronouncement without turning a hair. A footman was dispatched to set a place for him. “Come in, Phelan,” Leo said easily. “We love silent guests—it allows us to talk all the more. By all means, sit and say nothing.” “But if you can manage it,” Catherine added with a smile, “try to look impressed by our wit and intelligence.” “I will attempt to add to the conversation,” Christopher ventured, “if I can think of anything relevant.” “That never stops the rest of us,” Cam remarked.

In the last analysis, this stereotyped image of American culture as “sick” owed its existence to critics from the New Left.* America now displayed all the characteristics of a decadent modernity, or Zivilisation , as well as a decaying Faustian empire. Noam Chomsky, Michael Parenti, Richard Barnet, and Richard Slotkin all explained that American culture glorified violence, imperialism, and genocide. It practiced a vicious form of capitalism and technological repression (described by Leo Marx in The Machine in the Garden), a bankrupt liberalism (scathingly criticized by Roberto Unger), a manipulative consumerism (laid bare by Christopher Lasch and William Leach), as well as racism and a hatred of all minorities and subordinate groups. Not only blacks but American Indians, Jews, Chinese, Japanese, Mexicans, Hispanics, and women suffered unendurable humiliations at the hands of mainstream American society.

A rather old view of diplomacy defines it as the art of getting what one wants without a fight (and all the attendant risks.) A rather more cynical view defines it as the art of patriotically lying for one’s country. As we shall see, both views have a great deal of validity. -Professor Leo Caesius. Diplomacy: The Lessons of the Past.

The issues facing any state, therefore, required a balancing act. A state must have enough power to overawe the strong; conversely, it must also have limits on that power to prevent the politicians from becoming the strong. At the same time, it must reward hard work without accidentally suppressing it – or ruining its own economy. It must also be capable of heeding the will of the people while, at the same time, ignoring the ignorant. Sadly, this balancing act is very difficult to maintain. For one thing, how does one actually define 'ignorant?' -Professor Leo Caesius, Authority, Power and the Post-Imperial Era