“Will you do me the honour to meet me, then?” And as the old lady hesitated, he added, with sudden passion, “Dearest friend, I entreat you on my knees!” After she had agreed that if he would write to her, proposing a day and place, she would see him, he raised her ancient knuckles to his lips and, without further notice of Hyacinth, turned away. Madame Grandoni requested the servant to announce the other visitor to the Princess, and then approached Mr Robinson, rubbing her hands and smiling, with her head on one side. He smiled back at her, vaguely; he didn’t know what she might be going to say. What she said was, to his surprise—
“My poor young man, may I take the liberty of asking your age?”
“Certainly, madam; I am twenty-four.”
“And I hope you are industrious, and sober, and—what do you call it in English?—steady.”
“I don’t think I am very wild,” said Hyacinth, smiling still. He thought the old woman patronising, but he forgave her.
“I don’t know how one speaks, in this country, to young men like you. Perhaps one is considered meddling, impertinent.”
“I like the way you speak,” Hyacinth interposed.
She stared, and then with a comical affectation of dignity, replied, “You are very good. I am glad it amuses you. You are evidently intelligent and clever,” she went on, “and if you are disappointed it will be a pity.”
“How do you mean, if I am disappointed?” Hyacinth looked more grave.
“Well, I dare say you expect great things, when you come into a house like this. You must tell me if I wound you. I am very old-fashioned, and I am not of this country. I speak as one speaks to young men, like you, in other places.”