“If you were in the pay of the police you wouldn’t trouble your head about me.” “I should make you think that, certainly! That would be my first care. However, if you have no tiresome suspicions so much the better,” said the Princess; and she pressed him again for some news from behind the scenes. In spite of his absence of doubt on the subject of her honesty—he felt that he should never again entertain any such trumpery idea as that she might be an agent on the wrong side—he did not open himself immediately; but at the end of half an hour he let her know that the most important event of his life had taken place, scarcely more than the other day, in the most unexpected manner. And to explain in what it had consisted, he said, “I pledged myself, by everything that is sacred.” “To what did you pledge yourself?” “I took a vow—a tremendous, terrible vow—in the presence of four witnesses,” Hyacinth went on. “And what was it about, your vow?” “I gave my life away,” said Hyacinth, smiling. She looked at him askance, as if to see how he would make such an announcement as that; but she wore no smile—her face was politely grave. They moved together a moment, exchanging a glance, in silence, and then she said, “Ah, well, then, I’m all the more glad you stayed!” “That was one of the reasons.” “I wish you had waited—till after you had been here,” the Princess remarked. “Why till after I had been here?” “Perhaps then you wouldn’t have given away your life. You might have seen reasons for keeping it.” And now, at last, she treated the matter gaily, as Hyacinth had done. He replied that he had not the least doubt that, on the whole, her influence was relaxing; but without heeding this remark she went on: “Be so good as to tell me what you are talking about.”