“I have as little power to do one as I have desire to do the other.  I came in great part to ask you a question.  First, your decision is irrevocable?”

Christina’s two hands had been hanging clasped in front of her; she separated them and flung them apart by an admirable gesture.

“Would you have done this if you had not seen Miss Garland?”

She looked at him with quickened attention; then suddenly, “This is interesting!” she cried.  “Let us have it out.”  And she flung herself into a chair and pointed to another.

“You don’t answer my question,” Rowland said.

“You have no right, that I know of, to ask it.  But it ’s a very clever one; so clever that it deserves an answer.  Very likely I would not.”

“Last night, when I said that to myself, I was extremely angry,” Rowland rejoined.

“Oh, dear, and you are not angry now?”

“I am less angry.”

“How very stupid!  But you can say something at least.”

“If I were to say what is uppermost in my mind, I would say that, face to face with you, it is never possible to condemn you.”

“Perche?”

“You know, yourself!  But I can at least say now what I felt last night.  It seemed to me that you had consciously, cruelly dealt a blow at that poor girl.  Do you understand?”

“Wait a moment!” And with her eyes fixed on him, she inclined her head on one side, meditatively.  Then a cold, brilliant smile covered her face, and she made a gesture of negation.  “I see your train of reasoning, but it ’s quite wrong.  I meant no harm to Miss Garland; I should be extremely sorry to make her suffer.  Tell me you believe that.”

This was said with ineffable candor.  Rowland heard himself answering, “I believe it!”

“And yet, in a sense, your supposition was true,” Christina continued.  “I conceived, as I told you, a great admiration for Miss Garland, and I frankly confess I was jealous of her.  What I envied her was simply her character!  I said to myself, ’She, in my place, would n’t marry Casamassima.’  I could not help saying it, and I said it so often that I found a kind of inspiration in it.  I hated the idea of being worse than she—­of doing something that she would n’t do.  I might be bad by nature, but I need n’t be by volition.  The end of it all was that I found it impossible not to tell the prince that I was his very humble servant, but that I could not marry him.”

“Are you sure it was only of Miss Garland’s character that you were jealous, not of—­not of”—­

“Speak out, I beg you.  We are talking philosophy!”

“Not of her affection for her cousin?”

“Sure is a good deal to ask.  Still, I think I may say it!  There are two reasons; one, at least, I can tell you:  her affection has not a shadow’s weight with Mr. Hudson!  Why then should one fear it?”

“And what is the other reason?”

“Excuse me; that is my own affair.”