s purchased
respites. Strange were the turns of life and the moods of weakness;
strange the flickers of fancy and the cheats of hope; yet lawful, all
the same--weren't they?--those experiments tried with the truth that
consisted, at the worst, but in practising on one's self. She was now
playing with the thought that Eugenio might _inclusively_ assist her:
he had brought home to her, and always by remarks that were really
quite soundless, the conception, hitherto ungrasped, of some complete
use of her wealth itself, some use of it as a counter-move to fate. It
had passed between them as preposterous that with so much money she
should just stupidly and awkwardly _want_--any more want a life, a
career, a consciousness, than want a house, a carriage or a cook. It
was as if she had had from him a kind of expert professional measure of
what he was in a position, at a stretch, to undertake for her; the
thoroughness of which, for that matter, she could closely compare with
a looseness on Sir Luke Strett's part that--at least in Palazzo
Leporelli when mornings were fine--showed as almost amateurish. Sir
Luke hadn't said to her "Pay enough money and leave the rest to
_me_"--which was distinctly what Eugenio did say. Sir Luke had appeared
indeed to speak of purchase and payment, but in reference to a
different sort of cash. Those were amounts not to be named nor
reckoned, and such moreover as she wasn't sure of having at her
command. Eugenio--this was the difference--could name, could reckon,
and prices of _his_ kind were things she had never suffered to scare
her. She had been willing, goodness knew, to pay enough for anything,
for everything, and here was simply a new view of the sufficient
quantity. She amused herself--for it came to that, since Eugenio was
there to sign the receipt--with possibilities of meeting the bill. She
was more prepared than ever to pay enough, and quite as much as ever to
pay too much. What else--if such were points at which your most trusted
servant failed--was the use of being, as the dear Susies of earth
called you, a princess in a palace?

She made now, alone, the full circuit of the place, noble and peaceful
while the summer sea, stirring here and there a curtain or an outer
blind, breathed into its veiled spaces. She had a vision of clinging to
it; that perhaps Eugenio could manage. She was _in_ it, as in the ark
of her deluge, and filled with such a tenderness for it that why
shouldn't this, i