“When, pray,” said Roderick, smoothing his ruffled locks, “are women not watching them?”

“We shall give you something better to do, at any rate.  How long have you been here?  It ’s an age since I have seen you.  We consider you domiciled here, and expect you to play host and entertain us.”

Roderick said that he could offer them nothing but to show them the great terrace, with its view; and ten minutes later the group was assembled there.  Mrs. Light was extravagant in her satisfaction; Christina looked away at the Sabine mountains, in silence.  The prince stood by, frowning at the rapture of the elder lady.

“This is nothing,” he said at last.  “My word of honor.  Have you seen the terrace at San Gaetano?”

“Ah, that terrace,” murmured Mrs. Light, amorously.  “I suppose it is magnificent!”

“It is four hundred feet long, and paved with marble.  And the view is a thousand times more beautiful than this.  You see, far away, the blue, blue sea and the little smoke of Vesuvio!”

“Christina, love,” cried Mrs. Light forthwith, “the prince has a terrace four hundred feet long, all paved with marble!”

The Cavaliere gave a little cough and began to wipe his eye-glass.

“Stupendous!” said Christina.  “To go from one end to the other, the prince must have out his golden carriage.”  This was apparently an allusion to one of the other items of the young man’s grandeur.

“You always laugh at me,” said the prince.  “I know no more what to say!”

She looked at him with a sad smile and shook her head.  “No, no, dear prince, I don’t laugh at you.  Heaven forbid!  You are much too serious an affair.  I assure you I feel your importance.  What did you inform us was the value of the hereditary diamonds of the Princess Casamassima?”

“Ah, you are laughing at me yet!” said the poor young man, standing rigid and pale.

“It does n’t matter,” Christina went on.  “We have a note of it; mamma writes all those things down in a little book!”

“If you are laughed at, dear prince, at least it ’s in company,” said Mrs. Light, caressingly; and she took his arm, as if to resist his possible displacement under the shock of her daughter’s sarcasm.  But the prince looked heavy-eyed toward Rowland and Roderick, to whom the young girl was turning, as if he had much rather his lot were cast with theirs.

“Is the villa inhabited?” Christina asked, pointing to the vast melancholy structure which rises above the terrace.

“Not privately,” said Roderick.  “It is occupied by a Jesuits’ college, for little boys.”

“Can women go in?”

“I am afraid not.”  And Roderick began to laugh.  “Fancy the poor little devils looking up from their Latin declensions and seeing Miss Light standing there!”