“I should make you think that certainly! That would be my first care. However, if you’ve 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 was sure he should never again entertain any such trumpery idea as that she might be an agent on the wrong side—he didn’t 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’s sacred.” “To what did you pledge yourself?” “I took a vow—a tremendous solemn vow—in the presence of four witnesses,” Hyacinth went on. “And what was it about, your vow?” “I gave my life away,” he consciously smiled. She looked at him askance as if to see how he would indeed carry off such a statement as that; but she betrayed no levity of criticism—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,” it occurred to her, however, to remark. “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.” With which, like Hyacinth, she sacrificed to the brighter bravery. He replied that he had not the least doubt that on the whole her influence was relaxing; but without heeding this she went on: “Be so good as to tell me what you’re talking about.”