“Eh, Prince Casamassima is a veritable prince! He is a very good young man. He is not brilliant, nor witty, but he ‘ll not let himself be made a fool of. He ‘s very grave and very devout--though he does propose to marry a Protestant. He will handle that point after marriage. He ‘s as you see him there: a young man without many ideas, but with a very firm grasp of a single one--the conviction that Prince Casamassima is a very great person, that he greatly honors any young lady by asking for her hand, and that things are going very strangely when the young lady turns her back upon him. The poor young man, I am sure, is profoundly perplexed. But I whisper to him every day, ‘Pazienza, Signor Principe!’” “So you firmly believe,” said Rowland, in conclusion, “that Miss Light will accept him just in time not to lose him!” “I count upon it. She would make too perfect a princess to miss her destiny.” “And you hold that nevertheless, in the mean while, in listening to, say, my friend Hudson, she will have been acting in good faith?” The Cavaliere lifted his shoulders a trifle, and gave an inscrutable smile. “Eh, dear signore, the Christina is very romantic!” “So much so, you intimate, that she will eventually retract, in consequence not of a change of sentiment, but of a mysterious outward pressure?” “If everything else fails, there is that resource. But it is mysterious, as you say, and you need n’t try to guess it. You will never know.” “The poor signorina, then, will suffer!” “Not too much, I hope.” “And the poor young man! You maintain that there is nothing but disappointment in store for the infatuated youth who loses his heart to her!” The Cavaliere hesitated. “He had better,” he said in a moment, “go and pursue his studies in Florence. There are very fine antiques in the Uffizi!” Rowland presently joined Mrs. Light, to whom her restless protege had not yet returned. “That ‘s right,” she said; “sit down here; I have something serious to say to you. I am going to talk to you as a friend. I want your assistance. In fact, I demand it; it ‘s your duty to render it. Look at that unhappy young man.” “Yes,” said Rowland, “he seems unhappy.” “He is just come of age, he bears one of the greatest names in Italy and owns one of the greatest properties, and he is pining away with love for my daughter.” “So the Cavaliere tells me.” “The Cavaliere should n’t gossip,” said Mrs. Light dryly. “Such information should come from me. The prince is pining, as I say; he ‘s consumed, he ‘s devoured. It ‘s a real Italian passion; I know what that means!” And the lady gave a speaking glance, which seemed to coquet for a moment with retrospect. “Meanwhile, if you please, my daughter is hiding in the woods with your dear friend Mr. Hudson. I could cry with rage.” “If things are so bad as that,” said Rowland, “it seems to me that you ought to find nothing easier than to dispatch the Cavaliere to bring the guilty couple back.”