ceived that her eye had quite lost its ancient twinkle; she was troubled about many things.
'It is true that if you didn't leave me when I was rich, it wouldn't look well for you to leave me at present,' the Princess suggested; and before Madame Grandoni could reply to this speech she said to Hyacinth, 'I liked the man, your friend Muniment, so much for saying he wouldn't come to see me. "What good would it do him," poor fellow? What good would it do him, indeed? You were not so difficult: you held off a little and pleaded obstacles, but one could see you would come down,' she continued, covering her guest with her mystifying smile. 'Besides, I was smarter then, more splendid; I had on gewgaws and suggested worldly lures. I must have been more attractive. But I liked him for refusing,' she repeated; and of the many words she uttered that evening it was these that made most impression on Hyacinth. He remained for an hour after tea, for on rising from the table she had gone to the piano (she had not deprived herself of this resource, and had a humble instrument, of the so-called 'cottage' kind), and begun to play in a manner that reminded him of her playing the day of his arrival at Medley. The night had grown close, and as the piano was in the front room he opened, at her request, the window that looked into Madeira Crescent. Beneath it assembled the youth of both sexes, the dingy loiterers who had clustered an hour before around the hurdy-gurdy. But on this occasion they did not caper about; they remained still, leaning against the area-rails and listening to the wondrous music. When Hyacinth told the Princess of the spell she had thrown upon them she declared that it made her singularly happy; she added that
