"Oh yes," he said after a moment "I remember we're not to speak of it."

"That of course you're pledged to. And the one thing, you see, goes with
the other. So you don't insist."

He had again, at random, laid back his trinket; with which he quite
turned to her, a little wearily at last--even a little impatiently. "I
don't insist."

It disposed for the time of the question, but what was next apparent
was that it had seen them no further. The shopman, who had not stirred,
stood there in his patience--which, his mute intensity helping, had
almost the effect of an ironic comment. The Prince moved to the glass
door and, his back to the others, as with nothing more to contribute,
looked--though not less patiently--into the street. Then the
shopman, for Charlotte, momentously broke silence. "You've seen,
disgraziatamente, signora principessa," he sadly said, "too much"--and
it made the Prince face about. For the effect of the momentous came, if
not from the sense, from the sound of his words; which was that of
the suddenest, sharpest Italian. Charlotte exchanged with her friend a
glance that matched it, and just for the minute they were held in check.
But their glance had, after all, by that time, said more than one thing;
had both exclaimed on the apprehension, by the wretch, of their intimate
conversation, let alone of her possible, her impossible, title, and
remarked, for mutual reassurance, that it didn't, all the same, matter.
The Prince remained by the door, but immediately addressing the speaker
from where he stood.

"You're Italian then, are you?"

But the reply came in English. "Oh dear no."

"You're English?"

To which the answer was this time, with a smile, in briefest Italian.
"Che!" The dealer waived the question--he practically disposed of it by
turning straightway toward a receptacle to which he had not yet resorted
and from which, after unlocking it, he extracted a square box, of some
twenty inches in height, covered with worn-looking leather. He placed
the box on the counter, pushed back a pair of small hooks, lifted the
lid and removed from its nest a drinking-vessel larger than a common
cup, yet not of exorbitant size, and formed, to appearance, either of
old fine gold or of some material once richly gilt. He handled it with
tenderness, with ceremony, making a place for it on a small satin mat.
"My Golden Bowl," he observed--and it sounded, on his lips, as if it
said everything. He left the importa