THE PRINCE
cost you even but fivepence I wouldn't take it from you."
"Then," she asked, "what is the matter?"
"Why it has a crack."
It sounded, on his lips, so sharp, it had such an authority, that she almost started, while her colour rose at the word. It was as if he had been right, though his assurance was wonderful. "You answer for it without having looked?"
"I did look. I saw the object itself. It told its story. No wonder it's cheap."
"But it's exquisite," Charlotte, as if with an interest in it now made even tenderer and stranger, found herself moved to insist.
"Of course it's exquisite. That's the danger."
Then a light visibly came to her—a light in which her friend suddenly and intensely showed. The reflexion of it, as she smiled at him, was in her own face. "The danger—I see—is because you're superstitious."
"Per Dio I'm superstitious! A crack's a crack—and an omen's an omen."
"You'd be afraid—?"
"Per Bacco!"
"For your happiness?"
"For my happiness."
"For your safety?"
"For my safety."
She just paused. "For your marriage?"
"For my marriage. For everything."
She thought again. "Thank goodness then that if there be a crack we know it! But if we may perish by
119
