Page:The Princess Casamassima (London and New York, Macmillan & Co., 1886), Volume 3.djvu/20

 some reason or other, at that moment, the place, to Hyacinth, took on the semblance of the home of an exile—a spot and an hour to be remembered with a throb of fondness in some danger or sorrow of after years. The old lady never moved from her chair as she saw the Princess come in with the little bookbinder, and her eyes rested on Hyacinth as familiarly as if she had seen him go out with her in the afternoon. The Princess stood before Madame Grandoni a moment, smiling. 'I have done a great thing. What do you think I have done?' she asked, as she drew off her gloves.

'God knows! I have ceased to think!' said the old woman, staring up, with her fat, empty hands on the arms of her chair.

'I have come on foot from the far south of London—how many miles? four or five—and I'm not a particle tired.'

Che forza, che forza! murmured Madame Grandoni. 'She will knock you up, completely,' she added, turning to Hyacinth with a kind of customary compassion.

'Poor darling, she misses the carriage,' Christina remarked, passing out of the room.

Madame Grandoni followed her with her eyes, and Hyacinth thought he perceived a considerable lassitude, a plaintive bewilderment and hébétement, in the old woman's face. 'Don't you like to use cabs—I mean hansoms?' he asked, wishing to say something comforting to her.

'It is not true that I miss anything; my life is only too full,' she replied. 'I lived worse than this—in my bad days.' In a moment she went on: 'It's because you are here—she doesn't like Assunta to come.'