"More than two hours. I would not go—even to oblige the waiters."
"Two hours! Then——"
"Yes. It was that, my Principino. I had to see you. I have come—to make you a reproach. You know why?"
Vanno's face hardened slightly. "I can imagine. Who told you? Angelo?"
The Prince shrugged his shoulders, then nodded slightly in the direction of the Casino, which, through the big windows of the hall, could be seen sparkling with light. "That I've taken to amusing myself—over there. But it's no use scolding, Father. It's very good of you to feel an interest in your old pupil, though whoever has been telling tales oughtn't to have put you to this trouble. I must 'dree my ain weird,' as the Scots have it. I can translate it only by saying that I must go to the devil in my own way."
"I have not come to scold you for gambling, if that is what you mean," the curé said mildly. "Angelo has told me nothing. Nobody sent me to you. I have to reproach you for something quite different. I have seen Miss Grant, Principino. How you could suspect for a moment that there was anything but a pure soul behind those eyes, I cannot understand."
Vanno grew pale. He was obliged to be silent for an instant, in defence of his self-control. "I know very little of women's eyes, and of their souls nothing at all," he answered, harshly.
"So much the better, perhaps, because you can learn only good of the sex from Miss Grant's," said the curé.
"She will let me learn no lesson from her—unless, that there is no forgiveness for one mistake."