Hard by is a group of chalets and inns, with the usual appurtenances of a prosperous Swiss resort--lean brown guides in baggy homespun, lounging under carved wooden galleries, stacks of alpenstocks in every doorway, sun-scorched Englishmen without shirt-collars.
Our two friends sat a while at the door of an inn, discussing a pint of wine, and then Roderick, who was indefatigable, announced his intention of climbing to a certain rocky pinnacle which overhung the valley, and, according to the testimony of one of the guides, commanded a view of the Lake of Lucerne.
To go and come back was only a matter of an hour, but Rowland, with the prospect of his homeward trudge before him, confessed to a preference for lounging on his bench, or at most strolling a trifle farther and taking a look at the monastery.
Roderick went off alone, and his companion after a while bent his steps to the monasterial church.It was remarkable, like most of the churches of Catholic Switzerland, for a hideous style of devotional ornament; but it had a certain cold and musty picturesqueness, and Rowland lingered there with some tenderness for Alpine piety.
While he was near the high-altar some people came in at the west door;but he did not notice them, and was presently engaged in deciphering a curious old German epitaph on one of the mural tablets.
At last he turned away, wondering whether its syntax or its theology was the more uncomfortable, and, to this infinite surprise, found himself confronted with the Prince and Princess Casamassima.
The surprise on Christina's part, for an instant, was equal, and at first she seemed disposed to turn away without letting it give place to a greeting.
The prince, however, saluted gravely, and then Christina, in silence, put out her hand.Rowland immediately asked whether they were staying at Engelberg, but Christina only looked at him without speaking.
The prince answered his questions, and related that they had been making a month's tour in Switzerland, that at Lucerne his wife had been somewhat obstinately indisposed, and that the physician had recommended a week's trial of the tonic air and goat's milk of Engelberg.
The scenery, said the prince, was stupendous, but the life was terribly sad--and they had three days more! It was a blessing, he urbanely added, to see a good Roman face.
Christina's attitude, her solemn silence and her penetrating gaze seemed to Rowland, at first, to savor of affectation; but he presently perceived that she was profoundly agitated, and that she was afraid of betraying herself."Do let us leave this hideous edifice,"she said; "there are things here that set one's teeth on edge."They moved slowly to the door, and when they stood outside, in the sunny coolness of the valley, she turned to Rowland and said, "I am extremely glad to see you." Then she glanced about her and observed, against the wall of the church, an old stone seat.
She looked at Prince Casamassima a moment, and he smiled more intensely, Rowland thought, than the occasion demanded.
"I wish to sit here," she said, "and speak to Mr.Mallet--alone.""At your pleasure, dear friend," said the prince.
The tone of each was measured, to Rowland's ear; but that of Christina was dry, and that of her husband was splendidly urbane.
Rowland remembered that the Cavaliere Giacosa had told him that Mrs.Light's candidate was thoroughly a prince, and our friend wondered how he relished a peremptory accent.
Casamassima was an Italian of the undemonstrative type, but Rowland nevertheless divined that, like other princes before him, he had made the acquaintance of the thing called compromise.
"Shall I come back?" he asked with the same smile.
"In half an hour," said Christina.
In the clear outer light, Rowland's first impression of her was that she was more beautiful than ever.And yet in three months she could hardly have changed; the change was in Rowland's own vision of her, which that last interview, on the eve of her marriage, had made unprecedentedly tender.
"How came you here?" she asked."Are you staying in this place?""I am staying at Engelthal, some ten miles away; I walked over.""Are you alone?"
"I am with Mr.Hudson."
"Is he here with you?"
"He went half an hour ago to climb a rock for a view.""And his mother and that young girl, where are they?""They also are at Engelthal."
"What do you do there?"
"What do you do here?" said Rowland, smiling.
"I count the minutes till my week is up.I hate mountains;they depress me to death.I am sure Miss Garland likes them.""She is very fond of them, I believe."
"You believe--don't you know? But I have given up trying to imitate Miss Garland," said Christina.
"You surely need imitate no one."
"Don't say that," she said gravely."So you have walked ten miles this morning? And you are to walk back again?""Back again to supper."
"And Mr.Hudson too?"
"Mr.Hudson especially.He is a great walker.""You men are happy!" Christina cried."I believe Ishould enjoy the mountains if I could do such things.
It is sitting still and having them scowl down at you!
Prince Casamassina never rides.He only goes on a mule.
He was carried up the Faulhorn on a litter.""On a litter?" said Rowland.
"In one of those machines--a chaise a porteurs--like a woman."Rowland received this information in silence; it was equally unbecoming to either to relish or deprecate its irony.
"Is Mr.Hudson to join you again? Will he come here?" Christina asked.
"I shall soon begin to expect him."
"What shall you do when you leave Switzerland?" Christina continued.
"Shall you go back to Rome?"
"I rather doubt it.My plans are very uncertain.""They depend upon Mr.Hudson, eh?"
"In a great measure."
"I want you to tell me about him.Is he still in that perverse state of mind that afflicted you so much?"Rowland looked at her mistrustfully, without answering.
He was indisposed, instinctively, to tell her that Roderick was unhappy;it was possible she might offer to help him back to happiness.
