RODERICK HUDSON
memorated, hearing out-of-the-way anecdotes from deeply indigenous lips." At last, as they passed, Rowland observed the mournful physiognomy of Prince Casamassima, and glancing towards the other end of the terrace saw that Roderick and Christina had disappeared from view. The young man was sitting upright in an attitude, apparently habitual, of ceremonious rigidity; but his lower jaw had fallen and was propped up with his cane, and his dull dark eye was fixed upon the angle of the villa which had just eclipsed Miss Light and her companion. His features kept the odd rigour of their symmetry, and his expression was vacuous; but there was a lurking delicacy in his face which seemed to tell you that nature had been making Casamassimas for a great many centuries, and, though she adapted her mould to circumstances, had learned to mix her material to an extraordinary fineness and to perform the whole operation with a kind of insolent art. The Prince was stupid, Rowland suspected, but he imagined he was amiable, and he saw that, with his dim aspirations and alarms, he felt himself in charge of the very highest interests. Rowland touched his companion's arm and pointed to the melancholy nobleman.
"Why in the world does n't he go after her and insist on being noticed?"
"Oh, he's very proud!" said the Cavaliere.
"That 's all very well, but a gentleman who cultivates a passion for that young lady must be prepared to make sacrifices."
"He thinks he has already made a great many. He comes of a very great family—a race of princes who
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