"It's past half-past nine. If she does go, she will go about this time."
She called the waiter and paid the bill. And she buttoned her coat and stood up. He followed after her:
"Cornélie," he began, "isn't what you are doing rather strange? It'll mean all sorts of worries for you."
"If one always objected to being worried, one would never do a good action."
They walked on in silence, he moving irritably by her side. They did not speak: he thought her intention simply crazy; she thought him wanting in chivalry, not to wish to protect Urania. She was thinking of her pamphlet, of her fellow-women; and she wanted to protect Urania from marriage, from that prince. And they walked through the Corso to the Palazzo Ruspoli. He became nervous, made another attempt to restrain her; but she had already asked the porter:
"Is il signore principe at home?"
The man looked at her suspiciously:
"No," he said, curtly.
"I believe he is. If so, ask if Miss Hope is with his excellency. Miss Hope was not at home; I believe that she was coming to see the prince this evening; and I want to speak to her urgently ... on a matter which will not brook delay. Here: la Signora de Retz...."
She handed him her card. She spoke with the greatest self-possession and referred to Urania's visit calmly and simply, as though it were an everyday occurrence for American girls to call on Italian princes in the evening and as though she were persuaded that the porter knew of this custom. The man was disconcerted by her attitude, bowed, took the card and went away. Cornélie and Duco waited in the portico.