An hour after her companion had left the house with Paul Muniment Madame Grandoni came down to supper, a meal for which she made use, in gloomy solitude, of the little back parlour. She had pushed away her plate and sat motionless, staring at the crumpled cloth with her hands folded on the edge of the table, when she became aware that a gentleman had been ushered into the drawing-room and was standing before the fire in discreet suspense. At the same moment the maid-servant approached the old lady, remarking with bated breath: “The Prince, the Prince, mum! It’s you he ’ave asked for, mum!” Upon this Madame Grandoni called out to the visitor from her place, addressed him as her poor, dear, distinguished friend and bade him come and give her his arm. He obeyed with solemn alacrity, conducting her to the front room and the fire. He helped her to arrange herself in her chair and gather her shawl about her; then he seated himself at hand and remained with his dismal eyes bent on her. After a moment she said: “Tell me something about Rome. The grass in Villa Borghese must already be thick with flowers.” “I would have brought you some if I had thought,” he answered. Then he turned his gaze about the room. “Yes, you may well ask in such a black little hole as this. My wife shouldn’t live here,” he added. “Ah my dear friend, for all she’s your wife——!” the old woman exclaimed. The Prince sprang up in sudden, sharp agitation, and then she saw that the stiff propriety with which he had come into the room and greeted her was only an effort of his good manners. He was really trembling with excitement. “It’s true—it’s true! She _has_ lovers—she _has_ lovers!” he broke out. “I’ve seen it with my eyes and I’ve come here to know!” “I don’t know what you’ve seen, but your coming here to know won’t have helped you much. Besides, if you’ve seen you know for yourself. At any rate I’ve ceased to be able to tell you.” “You’re afraid—you’re afraid!” cried the visitor with a wild, accusatory gesture. The old woman looked up at him with slow speculation. “Sit down and be quiet, very quiet. I’ve ceased to pay attention—I take no heed.” “Well, I do then,” said the Prince, subsiding a little. “Don’t you know she has gone out to a house in a horrible quarter with a man?” “I think it highly probable, dear Prince.” “And who is he? That’s what I want to discover.” “How can I tell you? I haven’t seen him.” He looked at her with eyes of anguish. “Dear lady, is that kind to me when I’ve counted on you?” “Oh I’m not kind any more; it’s not a question of that. I’m angry—as angry almost as you.” “Then why don’t you watch her, eh?” “It’s not with her I’m angry. It’s with myself,” said Madame Grandoni, all in thought. “For becoming so indifferent, do you mean?” “On the contrary, for staying in the house.”