return to the dancing-room, and immediately afterwards
he saw Roderick making his way toward themselves. Roderick presented
himself before Miss Light.

"I don't claim that you have promised me the cotillon," he said, "but I
consider that you have given me hopes which warrant the confidence that
you will dance with me."

Christina looked at him a moment. "Certainly I have made no promises,"
she said. "It seemed to me that, as the daughter of the house, I should
keep myself free and let it depend on circumstances."

"I beseech you to dance with me!" said Roderick, with vehemence.

Christina rose and began to laugh. "You say that very well, but the
Italians do it better."

This assertion seemed likely to be put to the proof. Mrs. Light hastily
approached, leading, rather than led by, a tall, slim young man, of an
unmistakably Southern physiognomy. "My precious love," she cried, "what
a place to hide in! We have been looking for you for twenty minutes; I
have chosen a cavalier for you, and chosen well!"

The young man disengaged himself, made a ceremonious bow, joined his two
hands, and murmured with an ecstatic smile, "May I venture to hope, dear
signorina, for the honor of your hand?"

"Of course you may!" said Mrs. Light. "The honor is for us."

Christina hesitated but for a moment, then swept the young man a
courtesy as profound as his own bow. "You are very kind, but you are too
late. I have just accepted!"

"Ah, my own darling!" murmured--almost moaned--Mrs. Light.

Christina and Roderick exchanged a single glance--a glance brilliant on
both sides. She passed her hand into his arm; he tossed his clustering
locks and led her away.

A short time afterwards Rowland saw the young man whom she had
rejected leaning against a doorway. He was ugly, but what is called
distinguished-looking. He had a heavy black eye, a sallow complexion, a
long, thin neck; his hair was cropped en brosse. He looked very young,
yet extremely bored. He was staring at the ceiling and stroking an
imperceptible moustache. Rowland espied the Cavaliere Giacosa hard by,
and, having joined him, asked him the young man's name.

"Oh," said the Cavaliere, "he 's a pezzo grosso! A Neapolitan. Prince
Casamassima."

CHAPTER VI. Frascati

One day, on entering Roderick's lodging (not the modest rooms on the
Ripetta which he had first occupied, but a much more sumptuous apartment
on the Corso), Rowland found a letter on the table addres