'But this fellow, the chemist—to-night—what do you call him?'
'She has spoken to me of him as a most estimable young man.'
'But she thinks it's estimable to blow us all up,' the Prince returned. 'Doesn't he take her money?'
'I don't know what he takes. But there are some things—heaven forbid one should forget them! The misery of London is something fearful.'
'Che vuole? There is misery everywhere,' returned the Prince. 'It is the will of God. Ci vuol' pazienza! And in this country does no one give alms?'
'Every one, I believe. But it appears that it is not enough.'
The Prince said nothing for a moment; this statement of Madame Grandoni's seemed to present difficulties. The solution, however, soon suggested itself; it was expressed in the inquiry, 'What will you have in a country which has not the true faith?'
'Ah, the true faith is a great thing; but there is suffering even in countries that have it.'
'Evidentemente. But it helps suffering to be borne, and, later, it makes it up; whereas here!...' said the old lady's visitor, with a melancholy smile. 'If I may speak of myself, it is to me, in my circumstances, a support.'
'That is good,' said Madame Grandoni. He stood before her, resting his eyes for a moment on the floor. 'And the famous Cholto—Godfrey Gerald—does he come no more?'
'I haven't seen him for months, and know nothing about him.'
