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um followed her out of the tent alone and said that she need not mind if her father were a Duke； and possessed all the bedrooms and furniture that she described。 They would none of them think the worse of her for that。 Then she was seized with a shame that she had never felt before。 It was clear that Rustum and the other gipsies thought a descent of four or five hundred years only the meanest possible。 Their own families went back at least two or three thousand years。 To the gipsy whose ancestors had built the Pyramids centuries before Christ was born； the genealogy of Howards and Plantages was no better and no worse than that of the Smiths and the Joneses： both were negligible。 Moreover； where the shepherd boy had a lineage of such antiquity； there was nothing specially memorable or desirable in ancient birth； vagabonds and beggars all shared it。 And then； though he was too courteous to speak openly； it was clear that the gipsy thought that there was no more vulgar ambition than to possess bedrooms by the hundred （they were on top of a hill as they spoke； it was night； the mountains rose around them） when the whole earth is ours。 Looked at from the gipsy point of view； a Duke； Orlando understood； was nothing but a profiteer or robber who snatched land and money from people who rated these things of little worth； and could think of nothing better to do than to build three hundred and sixty–five bedrooms when one was enough； and none was even better than one。 She could not deny that her ancestors had accumulated field after field； house after house； honour after honour； yet had none of them been saints or heroes； or great benefactors of the human race。 Nor could she counter the argument （Rustum was too much of a gentleman to press it； but she understood） that any man who did now what her ancestors had done three or four hundred years ago would be denounced—and by her own family most loudly—for a vulgar upstart； an adventurer； a nouveau riche。
She sought to answer such arguments by the familiar if oblique method of finding the gipsy life itself rude and barbarous； and so； in a short time； much bad blood was bred between them。 Indeed； such differences of opinion are enough to cause bloodshed and revolution。 Towns have been sacked for less； and a million martyrs have suffered at the stake rather than yield an inch upon any of the points here debated。 No passion is stronger in the breast of man than the desire to make others believe as he believes。 Nothing so cuts at the root of his happiness and fills him with rage as the sense that another rates low what he prizes high。 Whigs and Tories； Liberal party and Labour party—for what do they battle except their own prestige？ It is not love of truth but desire to prevail that sets quarter against quarter and makes parish desire the downfall of parish。 Each seeks peace of mind and subserviency rather than the triumph of truth and the exaltation of virtue—but these moralities belong； and should be left to the historian； since they are as dull as ditch water。
‘Four hundred and seventy–six bedrooms mean nothing to them；’ sighed Orlando。
‘She prefers a sunset to a flock of goats；’ said the gipsies。
What was to be done； Orlando could not think。 To leave the gipsies and bee once more an Ambassador seemed to her intolerable。 But it was equally impossible to remain for ever where there was neither ink nor writing paper； neither reverence for the Talbots nor respect for a multiplicity of bedrooms。 So she was thinking； one fine morning on the slopes of Mount Athos； when minding her goats。 And then Nature； in whom she trusted； either played her a trick or worked a miracle—again； opinions differ too much for it to be possible to say which。 Orlando was gazing rather disconsolately at the steep hill–side in front of her。 It was now midsummer； and if we must pare the landscape to anything； it would have been to a dry bone； to a sheep’s skeleton； to a gigantic skull picked white by a thousand vultures。 The heat was intense； and the little fig tree under which Orlando lay only served to print patterns of fig–leaves upon her light burnous。
Suddenly a shadow； though there was nothing to cast a shadow； appeared on the bald mountain–side opposite。 It deepened quickly and soon a green hollow showed where there had been barren rock before。 As she looked； the hollow deepened and widened； and a great park–like space opened in the flank of the hill。 Within； she could see an undulating and grassy lawn； she could see oak trees dotted here and there； she could see the thrushes hopping among the branches。 She could see the deer stepping delicately from shade to shade； and could even hear the hum of insects and the gentle sighs and shivers of a summer’s day in England。 After she had gazed entranced for some time； snow began falling； soon the whole landscape was covered and marked with violet shades instead of yellow sunlight。 Now she saw heavy carts ing along the roads； laden with tree trunks； which they were taking； she knew； to be sawn for firewood； and then appeared the roofs and belfries and towers and courtyards of her own home。 The snow was falling steadily； and she could now hear the slither and flop which it made as it slid down the roof and fell to the ground。 The smoke went up from a thousand chimneys。 All was so clear and minute that she could see a Daw pecking for worms in the snow。 Then； gradually； the violet shadows deepened and closed over the carts and the lawns and the great house itself。 All was swallowed up。 Now there was nothing left of the grassy hollow； and instead of the green lawns was only the blazing hill–side which a thousand vultures seemed to have picked bare。 At this； she burst into a passion of tears； and striding back to the gipsies’ camp； told them that she must sail for England the very next day。
It was happy for her that she did so。 Already the young men had plotted her death。 Honour； they said； demanded it； for she did not think as they did。 Yet they would have been sorry to cut her throat； and weled the news of her departure。 An English merchant ship； as luck would have it； was already under sail in the harbour about to return to England； and Orl