She immediately perceived his hesitation.
"I see no reason why we should not be frank," she said.
"I should think we were excellently placed for that sort of thing.
You remember that formerly I cared very little what I said, don't you? Well, I care absolutely not at all now.
I say what I please, I do what I please! How did Mr.Hudson receive the news of my marriage?""Very badly," said Rowland.
"With rage and reproaches?" And as Rowland hesitated again--"With silent contempt?""I can tell you but little.He spoke to me on the subject, but I stopped him.I told him it was none of his business, or of mine.""That was an excellent answer!" said Christina, softly."Yet it was a little your business, after those sublime protestations I treated you to.
I was really very fine that morning, eh?""You do yourself injustice," said Rowland."I should be at liberty now to believe you were insincere.""What does it matter now whether I was insincere or not?
I can't conceive of anything mattering less.I was very fine--is n't it true?"
"You know what I think of you," said Rowland.
And for fear of being forced to betray his suspicion of the cause of her change, he took refuge in a commonplace.
"Your mother, I hope, is well."
"My mother is in the enjoyment of superb health, and may be seen every evening at the Casino, at the Baths of Lucca, confiding to every new-comer that she has married her daughter to a pearl of a prince."Rowland was anxious for news of Mrs.Light's companion, and the natural course was frankly to inquire about him.
"And the Cavaliere Giacosa is well?" he asked.
Christina hesitated, but she betrayed no other embarrassment.
"The Cavaliere has retired to his native city of Ancona, upon a pension, for the rest of his natural life.
He is a very good old man!"
"I have a great regard for him," said Rowland, gravely, at the same time that he privately wondered whether the Cavaliere's pension was paid by Prince Casamassima for services rendered in connection with his marriage.
Had the Cavaliere received his commission? "And what do you do,"Rowland continued, "on leaving this place?""We go to Italy--we go to Naples." She rose and stood silent a moment, looking down the valley.The figure of Prince Casamassima appeared in the distance, balancing his white umbrella.
As her eyes rested upon it, Rowland imagined that he saw something deeper in the strange expression which had lurked in her face while he talked to her.At first he had been dazzled by her blooming beauty, to which the lapse of weeks had only added splendor; then he had seen a heavier ray in the light of her eye--a sinister intimation of sadness and bitterness.
It was the outward mark of her sacrificed ideal.
Her eyes grew cold as she looked at her husband, and when, after a moment, she turned them upon Rowland, they struck him as intensely tragical.He felt a singular mixture of sympathy and dread; he wished to give her a proof of friendship, and yet it seemed to him that she had now turned her face in a direction where friendship was impotent to interpose.
She half read his feelings, apparently, and she gave a beautiful, sad smile."I hope we may never meet again!" she said.
And as Rowland gave her a protesting look--"You have seen me at my best.I wish to tell you solemnly, I was sincere!
I know appearances are against me," she went on quickly.
"There is a great deal I can't tell you.Perhaps you have guessed it;I care very little.You know, at any rate, I did my best.
