They went together on foot some minutes more. There were many turns; they seemed to know them well. For me it was very difficult—of course I also got out; I had to stay so far behind—close against the houses. Chiffinch Street, N.E.—that was the name,' the Prince continued, pronouncing the word with difficulty; 'and the house is number 32—I looked at that after they went in. It's a very bad house—worse than this; but it has no sign of a chemist, and there are no shops in the street. They rang the bell only once, though they waited a long time; it seemed to me, at least, that they did not touch it again. It was several minutes before the door was opened; and that was a bad time for me, because as they stood there they looked up and down. Fortunately you know the air of this place! I saw no light in the house—not even after they went in. Who let them enter I couldn't tell. I waited nearly half an hour, to see how long they would stay and what they would do on coming out; then, at last, my impatience brought me here, for to know she was absent made me hope I might see you. While I was there two persons went in—two men, together, smoking, who looked like artisti (I didn't see them near), but no one came out. I could see they took their cigars—and you can fancy what tobacco!—into the presence of the Princess. Formerly,' pursued Madame Grandoni's visitor, with a touching attempt at a jocular treatment of this point, 'she never tolerated smoking—never mine, at least. The street is very quiet—very few people pass. Now what is the house? Is it where that man lives?' he asked, almost in a whisper.
He had been encouraged by her consenting, in spite of
