Mrs. Light, meanwhile, had fairly established herself in Roman society.  “Heaven knows how!” Madame Grandoni said to Rowland, who had mentioned to her several evidences of the lady’s prosperity.  “In such a case there is nothing like audacity.  A month ago she knew no one but her washerwoman, and now I am told that the cards of Roman princesses are to be seen on her table.  She is evidently determined to play a great part, and she has the wit to perceive that, to make remunerative acquaintances, you must seem yourself to be worth knowing.  You must have striking rooms and a confusing variety of dresses, and give good dinners, and so forth.  She is spending a lot of money, and you ’ll see that in two or three weeks she will take upon herself to open the season by giving a magnificent ball.  Of course it is Christina’s beauty that floats her.  People go to see her because they are curious.”

“And they go again because they are charmed,” said Rowland.  “Miss Christina is a very remarkable young lady.”

“Oh, I know it well; I had occasion to say so to myself the other day.  She came to see me, of her own free will, and for an hour she was deeply interesting.  I think she ’s an actress, but she believes in her part while she is playing it.  She took it into her head the other day to believe that she was very unhappy, and she sat there, where you are sitting, and told me a tale of her miseries which brought tears into my eyes.  She cried, herself, profusely, and as naturally as possible.  She said she was weary of life and that she knew no one but me she could speak frankly to.  She must speak, or she would go mad.  She sobbed as if her heart would break.  I assure you it ’s well for you susceptible young men that you don’t see her when she sobs.  She said, in so many words, that her mother was an immoral woman.  Heaven knows what she meant.  She meant, I suppose, that she makes debts that she knows she can’t pay.  She said the life they led was horrible; that it was monstrous a poor girl should be dragged about the world to be sold to the highest bidder.  She was meant for better things; she could be perfectly happy in poverty.  It was not money she wanted.  I might not believe her, but she really cared for serious things.  Sometimes she thought of taking poison!”

“What did you say to that?”

“I recommended her,” said Madame Grandoni, “to come and see me instead.  I would help her about as much, and I was, on the whole, less unpleasant.  Of course I could help her only by letting her talk herself out and kissing her and patting her beautiful hands and telling her to be patient and she would be happy yet.  About once in two months I expect her to reappear, on the same errand, and meanwhile to quite forget my existence.  I believe I melted down to the point of telling her that I would find some good, quiet, affectionate husband for her; but she declared, almost with fury, that she was sick unto death of husbands, and begged I would never again mention the word.  And, in fact, it was a rash offer; for I am sure that there is not a man of the kind that might really make a woman happy but would be afraid to marry mademoiselle.  Looked at in that way she is certainly very much to be pitied, and indeed, altogether, though I don’t think she either means all she says or, by a great deal, says all that she means.  I feel very sorry for her.”