RODERICK HUDSON
to call attention to its exemplary correctness. But he gave Rowland an odd sense of looking at an elaborate waxen image adjusted to perform certain gestures and emit certain sounds. It had once contained the marvellous machinery of a spirit too, but some accident had apparently befallen that part of the mechanism, to the cost of the perfect imitation of life. Nevertheless, Rowland reflected, there are more graceless things than the mere motions and passes of a very old civilisation—the civilisation that had given this personage his inexhausted impetus never having struck him as so immemorially old. The Cavaliere also had spirit enough left to desire to speak a few words on his own account and call Rowland's attention to the fact that he was not after all a hired cicerone, but an ancient Roman gentleman. Rowland felt sorry for him; he hardly knew why. He assured him in friendly fashion that he must come again, that his house was always at his service. The Cavaliere took it with perfect delicacy. "You do me too much honour," he murmured. "If you 'll allow me—it 's not impossible!"
Mrs. Light meanwhile had prepared to depart. "If you 're not afraid to come and see two quiet little women we shall be most happy! We have no statues nor pictures—we have nothing but each other. Eh, darling?"
"I beg your pardon," said Christina.
"Oh, and the Cavaliere," added her mother.
"The poodle, please!" cried the girl.
Rowland glanced at the Cavaliere; he was smiling more blandly than ever.
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