Mrs. Light burst into angry tears. “Because the poor boy is a prince, eh? because he ‘s of a great family, and has an income of millions, eh? That ‘s why you grudge him and hate him. I knew there were vulgar people of that way of feeling, but I did n’t expect it of you. Make an effort, Mr. Mallet; rise to the occasion; forgive the poor fellow his splendor. Be just, be reasonable! It ‘s not his fault, and it ‘s not mine. He ‘s the best, the kindest young man in the world, and the most correct and moral and virtuous! If he were standing here in rags, I would say it all the same. The man first--the money afterwards: that was always my motto, and always will be. What do you take me for? Do you suppose I would give Christina to a vicious person? do you suppose I would sacrifice my precious child, little comfort as I have in her, to a man against whose character one word could be breathed? Casamassima is only too good, he ‘s a saint of saints, he ‘s stupidly good! There is n’t such another in the length and breadth of Europe. What he has been through in this house, not a common peasant would endure. Christina has treated him as you would n’t treat a dog. He has been insulted, outraged, persecuted! He has been driven hither and thither till he did n’t know where he was. He has stood there where you stand--there, with his name and his millions and his devotion--as white as your handkerchief, with hot tears in his eyes, and me ready to go down on my knees to him and say, ‘My own sweet prince, I could kiss the ground you tread on, but it is n’t decent that I should allow you to enter my house and expose yourself to these horrors again.’ And he would come back, and he would come back, and go through it all again, and take all that was given him, and only want the girl the more! I was his confidant; I know everything. He used to beg my forgiveness for Christina. What do you say to that? I seized him once and kissed him, I did! To find that and to find all the rest with it, and to believe it was a gift straight from the pitying angels of heaven, and then to see it dashed away before your eyes and to stand here helpless--oh, it ‘s a fate I hope you may ever be spared!” “It would seem, then, that in the interest of Prince Casamassima himself I ought to refuse to interfere,” said Rowland. Mrs. Light looked at him hard, slowly drying her eyes. The intensity of her grief and anger gave her a kind of majesty, and Rowland, for the moment, felt ashamed of the ironical ring of his observation. “Very good, sir,” she said. “I ‘m sorry your heart is not so tender as your conscience. My compliments to your conscience! It must give you great happiness. Heaven help me! Since you fail us, we are indeed driven to the wall. But I have fought my own battles before, and I have never lost courage, and I don’t see why I should break down now. Cavaliere, come here!”