land
offered to join him on his sentimental circuit. But as they were
preparing to leave the church, he heard himself suddenly addressed from
behind. Turning, he beheld a young woman whom he immediately recognized
as Madame Grandoni's maid. Her mistress was present, she said, and
begged to confer with him before he departed.

This summons obliged Rowland to separate from Singleton, to whom he bade
farewell. He followed the messenger, and presently found Madame Grandoni
occupying a liberal area on the steps of the tribune, behind the great
altar, where, spreading a shawl on the polished red marble, she had
comfortably seated herself. He expected that she had something especial
to impart, and she lost no time in bringing forth her treasure.

"Don't shout very loud," she said, "remember that we are in church;
there 's a limit to the noise one may make even in Saint Peter's.
Christina Light was married this morning to Prince Casamassima."

Rowland did not shout at all; he gave a deep, short murmur:
"Married--this morning?"

"Married this morning, at seven o'clock, le plus tranquillement du
monde, before three or four persons. The young couple left Rome an hour
afterwards."

For some moments this seemed to him really terrible; the dark little
drama of which he had caught a glimpse had played itself out. He had
believed that Christina would resist; that she had succumbed was a proof
that the pressure had been cruel. Rowland's imagination followed her
forth with an irresistible tremor into the world toward which she was
rolling away, with her detested husband and her stifled ideal; but it
must be confessed that if the first impulse of his compassion was
for Christina, the second was for Prince Casamassima. Madame Grandoni
acknowledged an extreme curiosity as to the secret springs of these
strange doings: Casamassima's sudden dismissal, his still more sudden
recall, the hurried private marriage. "Listen," said Rowland, hereupon,
"and I will tell you something." And he related, in detail, his last
visit to Mrs. Light and his talk with this lady, with Christina, and
with the Cavaliere.

"Good," she said; "it 's all very curious. But it 's a riddle, and I
only half guess it."

"Well," said Rowland, "I desire to harm no one; but certain suppositions
have taken shape in my mind which serve as a solvent to several
ambiguities."

"It is very true," Madame Grandoni answered, "that the Cavaliere, as he
stands, has always need