'Don't you think so?'
'That 's measured by what men think! She is extremely clever, too.'
'Oh, incontestably.'
'She has beautiful dresses.'
'Yes, any number of them.'
'And beautiful manners.'
'Yes—sometimes.'
'And plenty of money.'
'Money enough, apparently.'
'And she receives great admiration.'
'Very true.'
'And she is to marry a prince.'
'So they say.'
Miss Garland rose and turned to rejoin her companions, commenting these admissions with a pregnant silence. 'Poor Miss Light!' she said at last, simply. And in this it seemed to Rowland there was a touch of bitterness.
Very late on the following evening his servant brought him the card of a visitor. He was surprised at a visit at such an hour, but it may be said that when he read the inscription—Cavaliere Giuseppe Giacosa—his surprise declined. He had had an unformulated conviction that there was to be a sequel to the apparition at Madame Grandoni's; the Cavaliere had come to usher it in.
He had come, evidently, on a portentous errand. He was as pale as ashes and prodigiously serious; his little cold black eye had grown ardent, and he had left his caressing smile at home. He saluted Rowland, however, with his usual obsequious bow.
'You have more than once done me the honor to invite me to call upon you,' he said. 'I am ashamed of my long delay, and I can only say to you, frankly, that my time this winter has not been my own.' Rowland assented, ungrudgingly fumbled for the Italian correlative of the adage 'Better late than never,' begged him to be seated, and offered him a cigar. The Cavaliere sniffed imperceptibly the fragrant weed, and then declared that, if his kind host would allow him, he would reserve it for consumption at another time. He apparently desired to intimate that the solemnity of his errand left him no breath for idle smoke-puffings. Rowland stayed himself, just in time, from an enthusiastic offer of a dozen more cigars, and, as he watched the Cavaliere stow his treasure tenderly away in his pocket-book, reflected that only an Italian could go through such a performance with uncompromised dignity. 'I must confess,' the little old man resumed, 'that even now I come on business not of my own—or my own, at least, only in a secondary sense. I have been dispatched as an ambassador, an envoy extraordinary, I may say, by my dear friend Mrs. Light.'
'If I can in any way be of service to Mrs. Light, I shall be happy,' Rowland said.
'Well then, dear sir, Casa Light is in commotion. The signora is in trouble—in terrible trouble.' For a moment Rowland expected to hear that the signora's trouble was of a nature that a loan of five thousand francs would assuage. But the Cavaliere continued: 'Miss Light has committed a great crime; she has plunged a dagger into the heart of her mother.'
'A dagger!' cried Rowland.
The Cavaliere patted the air an instant with his finger-tips. 'I speak figuratively. She has broken off her marriage.'
'Broken it off?'
'Short! She has turned the prince from the door.' And the Cavaliere, when he had made this announcement, folded his arms and bent upon Rowland his intense, inscrutable gaze. It seemed to Rowland that he detected in the polished depths of it a sort of fantastic gleam of irony or of triumph; but superficially, at least, Giacosa did nothing to discredit his character as a presumably sympathetic representative of Mrs. Light's affliction.
Rowland heard his news with a kind of fierce disgust; it seemed the sinister counterpart of Christina's preternatural mildness at Madame Grandoni's tea-party. She had been too plausible to be honest. Without being able to trace the connection, he yet instinctively associated her present rebellion with her meeting with Mary Garland. If she had not seen Mary, she would have let things stand. It was monstrous to suppose that she could have sacrificed so brilliant a fortune to a mere movement of jealousy, to a refined instinct of feminine deviltry, to a desire to frighten poor Mary from her security by again appearing in the field. Yet Rowland remembered his first impression of her; she was 'dangerous,' and she had measured in each direction the perturbing effect of her rupture. She was smiling her sweetest smile at it! For half an hour Rowland simply detested her, and longed to denounce her to her face. Of course all he could say to Giacosa was that he was extremely sorry. 'But I am not surprised,' he added.
'You are not surprised?'
'With Miss Light everything is possible. Is n't that true?'
Another ripple seemed to play for an instant in the current of the old man's irony, but he waived response. 'It was a magnificent marriage,' he said, solemnly. 'I do not respect many people, but I respect Prince Casamassima.'
'I should judge him indeed to be a very honorable young man,' said Rowland.
'Eh, young as he is, he 's made of the old stuff. And now, perhaps he 's blowing his brains out. He is the last of his house; it 's a great house. But Miss Light will have put an end to it!'
'Is that the view she takes of it?' Rowland ventured to ask.
This time, unmistakably, the Cavaliere smiled, but still in that very out-of-the-way place. 'You have observed Miss Light with attention,' he said, 'and this brings me to my errand. Mrs. Light has a high opinion of your wisdom, of your kindness, and she has reason to believe you have influence with her daughter.'
