'Not when he knows I don't use it for myself. What exasperates him is that it is devoted to ends which he hates almost as much as he hates me and yet which he can't call selfish.'
'He doesn't hate you,' said Muniment, with the tone of pleasant reasonableness that he used when he was most imperturbable. 'His letter satisfies me of that.' The Princess stared, at this, and asked him what he was coming to—whether he were leading up to advising her to go back and live with her husband. 'I don't know that I would go so far as to advise,' he replied; 'when I have so much benefit from seeing you here, on your present footing, that wouldn't sound well. But I'll just make bold to prophesy that you will go before very long.'
'And on what does that extraordinary prediction rest?'
'On this plain fact—that you will have nothing to live upon. You decline to read the Prince's letter, but if you were to look at it it would give you evidence of what I mean. He informs me that I need count upon no more supplies from your hands, as you yourself will receive no more.'
'He addresses you that way, in plain terms?'
'I can't call them very plain, because the letter is written in French, and I naturally have had a certain difficulty in making it out, in spite of my persevering study of the tongue and the fine example set me by poor Robinson. But that appears to be the gist of the matter.'
'And you can repeat such an insult to me without the smallest apparent discomposure? You're the most remarkable man!' the Princess broke out.
