Rowland
remembered that the Cavaliere Giacosa had told him that Mrs. Light's
candidate was thoroughly a prince, and our friend wondered how he
relished a peremptory accent. Casamassima was an Italian of the
undemonstrative type, but Rowland nevertheless divined that, like other
princes before him, he had made the acquaintance of the thing called
compromise. "Shall I come back?" he asked with the same smile.
"In half an hour," said Christina.
In the clear outer light, Rowland's first impression of her was that she
was more beautiful than ever. And yet in three months she could hardly
have changed; the change was in Rowland's own vision of her, which that
last interview, on the eve of her marriage, had made unprecedentedly
tender.
"How came you here?" she asked. "Are you staying in this place?"
"I am staying at Engelthal, some ten miles away; I walked over."
"Are you alone?"
"I am with Mr. Hudson."
"Is he here with you?"
"He went half an hour ago to climb a rock for a view."
"And his mother and that young girl, where are they?"
"They also are at Engelthal."
"What do you do there?"
"What do you do here?" said Rowland, smiling.
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