“That’s what poor Hyacinth thinks,” he said.
She 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 pursued: “Hasn’t he told you about me? Hasn’t he explained me a little?”
“Oh his explanations are grand!” Muniment laughed. “He’s fine sport when he talks about you.”
“Don’t betray him,” she said gently.
“There’s nothing to betray. You’d be the first to admire it if you were there. Besides, I don’t betray,” he 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.
Her guest accepted it respectfully. “He’s a sweet little lad and, putting her ladyship aside, quite the light of our humble 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 she added: “I don’t know if you know it, but I’m in correspondence with a certain person. If you understand me at all you’ll know whom I mean. I’m acquainted with many of our most important men.”