“So much the better,” said Madame Grandoni; “though now that I look at you well I doubt it a little. I see you’re one of those types that ladies like. I can be sure of that—I like you myself. At my age—a hundred and twenty—can’t I say that? If the Princess were to do so it would be different; remember that—that any flattery she may ever offer you will be on her lips much less discreet. But perhaps she will never have the chance; you may never come again. There are people who have come only once. _Vedremo bene._ I must tell you that I’m not in the least against a young man’s taking a holiday, a little quiet recreation, once in a while,” Madame Grandoni continued in her disconnected, discursive, confidential way. “In Rome they take one every five days; that’s no doubt too often. In Germany less often. In this country I can’t understand if it’s an increase of effort: the English Sunday’s so difficult! This one will in any case have been beautiful for you. Be happy, make yourself comfortable; but go home to-morrow!” And with this injunction Madame Grandoni took her way again to the door while he went to open it for her. “I can say that because it’s not my house. I’m only here like you. And sometimes I think I also shall go to-morrow!” “I imagine you’ve not, like me, your living to get every day. That’s reason enough for me,” said Hyacinth. She paused in the doorway with her expressive, ugly, kindly little eyes on his face. “I believe I’m nearly as poor as you. And I’ve not, like you, the appearance of nobility. Yet I’m noble,” said the old lady, shaking her wig. “And I’m not!” Hyacinth deeply smiled. “It’s better not to be lifted up high like our friend. It doesn’t give happiness.” “Not to one’s self possibly; but to others!” From where they stood he looked out into the great panelled and decorated hall, lighted from above and roofed with a far-away dim fresco, and the reflexion of this grandeur came into his appreciative eyes. “Do you admire everything here very much—do you receive great pleasure?” asked Madame Grandoni. “Oh, so much—so much!” She considered him a moment longer. “_Poverino!_” she murmured as she turned away.