“Ah no, it was not in that part. I tried to ask the cabman who brought me back to explain to me what it’s called; but I couldn’t make him understand. They’ve heavy minds,” the Prince declared. Then he pursued, drawing a little closer to his hostess: “But what were they doing there? Why did she go with him?” “They think they’re conspiring. Ecco!” said Madame Grandoni. “You mean they’ve joined a secret society, a band of revolutionists and murderers? _Capisco bene_—that’s not new to me. But perhaps they only pretend it’s for that,” added the Prince. “Only pretend? Why should they pretend? That’s not Christina’s way.” “There are other possibilities,” he portentously observed. “Oh of course when your wife goes off with strange, low men in the dark, goes off to _des maisons louches_, you can think anything you like and I’ve nothing to say to your thoughts. I’ve my own, but they’re my affair, and I shall not undertake to defend Christina, who’s indefensible. When she commits these follies she provokes, she invites, the worst construction; there let it rest save for this one remark which I will content myself with making. That is that if she were a real wretch, capable of _all_, she wouldn’t behave as she does now, she wouldn’t expose herself to _the_ supposition; the appearance of everything would be good and proper. I simply tell you what I believe. If I believed that what she’s doing concerned you alone I should say nothing about it—at least sitting here. But it concerns others, it concerns every one, so I open my mouth at last. She has gone to that house to break up society.” “To break it up, yes, as she has wanted before?” “Oh more than ever before! She’s very much entangled. She has relations with people who are watched by the police. She hasn’t told me, but I’ve grown sure of it by simply living with her.” The poor Prince stared. “And is _she_ watched by the police?” “I can’t tell you; it’s very possible—except that the police here isn’t like that of other countries.” “It’s more stupid.” He gazed at his cold comforter with a flush of shame on his face. “Will she bring us to _that_ scandal? It would be the worst of all.” “There’s one chance—the chance she’ll get tired of it,” the old lady remarked. “Only the scandal may come before that.” “Dear friend, she’s the Devil in person,” said the Prince woefully. “No, she’s not the Devil, because she wishes to do good.” “What good did she ever wish to do to me?” he asked with glowing eyes. She shook her head with a gloom that matched his own. “You can do no good of any kind to each other. Each on your own side you must be quiet.” “How can I be quiet when I hear of such infamies?” He got up in his violence and, after a fashion that caused his companion to burst into a short, incongruous laugh as soon as she heard the words, pronounced: “She shall _not_ break up society!” “No, she’ll bore herself to death before the _coup_ is ripe. Make up your mind to that.”