“There are other possibilities,” the Prince observed.
“Oh, of course, when your wife goes away with strange men, in the dark, to far-away houses, you can think anything you like, and I have nothing to say to your thoughts. I have my own, but they are my own affair, and I shall not undertake to defend Christina, for she is indefensible. When she does the things she does, she provokes, she invites, the worst construction; there let it rest, save for this one remark, which I will content myself with making: if she were a licentious woman she would not behave as she does now, she would not expose herself to irresistible interpretations; the appearance of everything would be good and proper. I simply tell you what I believe. If I believed that what she is doing concerned you alone, I should say nothing about it—at least sitting here. But it concerns others, it concerns every one, so I will open my mouth at last. She has gone to that house to break up society.”
“To break it up, yes, as she has wanted before?”
“Oh, more than before! She is very much entangled. She has relations with people who are watched by the police. She has not told me, but I have perceived it by simply living with her.”
Prince Casamassima stared. “And is she watched by the police?”
“I can’t tell you; it is very possible—except that the police here is not like that of other countries.”
“It is more stupid,” said the Prince. He gazed at Madame Grandoni with a flush of shame on his face. “Will she bring us to that scandal? It would be the worst of all.”
“There is one chance—the chance that she will get tired of it,” the old lady remarked. “Only the scandal may come before that.”
“Dear friend, she is the devil,” said the Prince, solemnly.
“No, she is not the devil, because she wishes to do good.”