the wage-earning cockney, with his handsome head uncovered and suppressed excitement in his brilliant little face, the young man from Lomax Place might have passed for anything rather than a carrier of parcels. 'The Princess wrote to me, madam, to come and see her,' he remarked, as a precaution, in case he should have incurred the reproach of bad taste, or at least of precipitation.
'Oh yes, I daresay.' And Madame Grandoni guided the Prince to the door, with an expression of the hope that he would have a comfortable journey back to Italy.
A faint flush had come into his face; he appeared to have satisfied himself on the subject of Mr. Robinson. 'I must see you once more—I must—it's impossible!'
'Ah, well, not in this house, you know.'
'Will you do me the honour to meet me, then?' And as the old lady hesitated, he added, with sudden passion, 'Dearest friend, I entreat you on my knees!' After she had agreed that if he would write to her, proposing a day and place, she would see him, he raised her ancient knuckles to his lips and, without further notice of Hyacinth, turned away. Madame Grandoni requested the servant to announce the other visitor to the Princess, and then approached Mr. Robinson, rubbing her hands and smiling, with her head on one side. He smiled back at her, vaguely; he didn't know what she might be going to say. What she said was, to his surprise—
'My poor young man, may I take the liberty of asking your age?'
'Certainly, madam; I am twenty-four.'
'And I hope you are industrious, and sober, and—what do you call it in English?—steady.'
