Rowland's imagination followed her forth with an irresistible tremor into the world toward which she was rolling away, with her detested husband and her stifled ideal; but it must be confessed that if the first impulse of his compassion was for Christina, the second was for Prince Casamassima.
Madame Grandoni acknowledged an extreme curiosity as to the secret springs of these strange doings: Casamassima's sudden dismissal, his still more sudden recall, the hurried private marriage.
"Listen," said Rowland, hereupon, "and I will tell you something."And he related, in detail, his last visit to Mrs.Light and his talk with this lady, with Christina, and with the Cavaliere.
"Good," she said; "it 's all very curious.But it 's a riddle, and I only half guess it.""Well," said Rowland, "I desire to harm no one; but certain suppositions have taken shape in my mind which serve as a solvent to several ambiguities.""It is very true," Madame Grandoni answered, "that the Cavaliere, as he stands, has always needed to be explained.""He is explained by the hypothesis that, three-and-twenty years ago, at Ancona, Mrs.Light had a lover.""I see.Ancona was dull, Mrs.Light was lively, and--three-and-twenty years ago--perhaps, the Cavaliere was fascinating.
Doubtless it would be fairer to say that he was fascinated.
Poor Giacosa!"
"He has had his compensation," Rowland said."He has been passionately fond of Christina.""Naturally.But has Christina never wondered why?""If she had been near guessing, her mother's shabby treatment of him would have put her off the scent.Mrs.Light's conscience has apparently told her that she could expiate an hour's too great kindness by twenty years' contempt.So she kept her secret.
But what is the profit of having a secret unless you can make some use of it? The day at last came when she could turn hers to account;she could let the skeleton out of the closet and create a panic.""I don't understand."
"Neither do I morally," said Rowland."I only conceive that there was a horrible, fabulous scene.The poor Cavaliere stood outside, at the door, white as a corpse and as dumb.The mother and daughter had it out together.Mrs.Light burnt her ships.
When she came out she had three lines of writing in her daughter's hand, which the Cavaliere was dispatched with to the prince.
They overtook the young man in time, and, when he reappeared, he was delighted to dispense with further waiting.
I don't know what he thought of the look in his bride's face;but that is how I roughly reconstruct history.""Christina was forced to decide, then, that she could not afford not to be a princess?""She was reduced by humiliation.She was assured that it was not for her to make conditions, but to thank her stars that there were none made for her.
If she persisted, she might find it coming to pass that there would be conditions, and the formal rupture--the rupture that the world would hear of and pry into--would then proceed from the prince and not from her.""That 's all nonsense!" said Madame Grandoni, energetically.
"To us, yes; but not to the proudest girl in the world, deeply wounded in her pride, and not stopping to calculate probabilities, but muffling her shame, with an almost sensuous relief, in a splendor that stood within her grasp and asked no questions.
Is it not possible that the late Mr.Light had made an outbreak before witnesses who are still living?""Certainly her marriage now," said Madame Grandoni, less analytically, "has the advantage that it takes her away from her--parents!"This lady's farther comments upon the event are not immediately pertinent to our history; there were some other comments of which Rowland had a deeply oppressive foreboding.He called, on the evening of the morrow upon Mrs.Hudson, and found Roderick with the two ladies.Their companion had apparently but lately entered, and Rowland afterwards learned that it was his first appearance since the writing of the note which had so distressed his mother.
He had flung himself upon a sofa, where he sat with his chin upon his breast, staring before him with a sinister spark in his eye.
He fixed his gaze on Rowland, but gave him no greeting.
He had evidently been saying something to startle the women;Mrs.Hudson had gone and seated herself, timidly and imploringly, on the edge of the sofa, trying to take his hand.Miss Garland was applying herself to some needlework with conscious intentness.
Mrs.Hudson gave Rowland, on his entrance, a touching look of gratitude."Oh, we have such blessed news!" she said.
"Roderick is ready to leave Rome."
"It 's not blessed news; it 's most damnable news!" cried Roderick.
"Oh, but we are very glad, my son, and I am sure you will be when you get away.You 're looking most dreadfully thin;is n't he, Mr.Mallet? It 's plain enough you need a change.
I 'm sure we will go wherever you like.Where would you like to go?"Roderick turned his head slowly and looked at her.He had let her take his hand, which she pressed tenderly between her own.
He gazed at her for some time in silence."Poor mother!"he said at last, in a portentous tone.
"My own dear son!" murmured Mrs.Hudson in all the innocence of her trust.
"I don't care a straw where you go! I don't care a straw for anything!""Oh, my dear boy, you must not say that before all of us here--before Mary, before Mr.Mallet!"
"Mary--Mr.Mallet?" Roderick repeated, almost savagely.
He released himself from the clasp of his mother's hand and turned away, leaning his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.There was a silence;Rowland said nothing because he was watching Miss Garland.
"Why should I stand on ceremony with Mary and Mr.Mallet?"Roderick presently added."Mary pretends to believe I 'm a fine fellow, and if she believes it as she ought to, nothing I can say will alter her opinion.Mallet knows I 'm a hopeless humbug; so I need n't mince my words with him.""Ah, my dear, don't use such dreadful language!" said Mrs.Hudson.
