The Princess wondered a little that he could allude in that light tone to the faith their young friend had placed in him, considering the consequences such a trustfulness might yet have; but this curious mixture of qualities could only make her visitor, as a tribune of the people, more interesting to her. She abstained for the moment from touching on the subject of Hyacinth’s peculiar position, and only said, “Hasn’t he told you about me? Hasn’t he explained me a little?”
“Oh, his explanations are grand!” Muniment exclaimed, hilariously. “He’s fine sport when he talks about you.”
“Don’t betray him,” said the Princess, gently.
“There’s nothing to betray. You would be the first to admire it if you were there. Besides, I don’t betray,” the young man added.
“I love him very much,” said the Princess; and it would have been impossible for the most impudent cynic to smile at the manner in which she made the declaration.
Paul accepted it respectfully. “He’s a sweet little lad, and, putting her ladyship aside, quite the light of our home.”
There was a short pause after this exchange of amenities, which the Princess terminated by inquiring, “Wouldn’t some one else do his work quite as well?”
“His work? Why, I’m told he’s a master-hand.”
“Oh, I don’t mean his bookbinding.” Then the Princess added, “I don’t know whether you know it, but I am in correspondence with Hoffendahl. I am acquainted with many of our most important men.”
“Yes, I know it. Hyacinth has told me. Do you mention it as a guarantee, so that I may know you are genuine?”