RODERICK HUDSON
the world. What was the part and what were her reasons? She was interesting; Rowland wondered what were her domestic secrets. If her parent had been a daughter of the great Republic it was to be supposed that she herself was a flower of the American soil; but her beauty had, in spite of her youth, an air of longer history than consorts, in general, with the rather extemporised look of American loveliness. She spoke with a vague foreign accent, as if she had spent her life in strange countries. Their Italian squire apparently divined Rowland's mute imaginings, for he stepped with a conciliatory flourish into the breach. "I've not done my duty," he remarked, "in not announcing these ladies. Madama Light, Mees Light!"
Rowland was not materially the wiser for this information, but Roderick was roused by it to the exercise of some slight civility. He altered the lighting, pulled forward two or three figures and made an apology for not having more to show. "I don't pretend to have anything of an exhibition — I 'm only a novice."
"Indeed? — a novice! For a novice this will certainly pass," Mrs. Light declared. "Cavaliere, we 've seen nothing better than this."
The Cavaliere smiled rapturously. "It's stupend ous!" he murmured. "And we've been to all the studios."
"Not to all — goodness gracious!" cried Mrs. Light. "But to a number that I 've had pointed out by artistic friends. I delight in studios — I should have been so happy myself to be a little quiet artist!
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