RODERICK HUDSON
"Amen!" said Roderick. "It was so nominated in the bond. My profits are here!" And he tapped his forehead.
"It would be prettier if you said here!" And Christina touched her heart.
"My precious child, how you do run on!" murmured Mrs. Light.
"It 's Mr. Mallet's effect on me," the girl answered. "I can't talk a word of sense so long as he 's in the room. I don't say that to make you go," she added; "I say it simply to justify myself."
"The noble art of self-defence!" said Rowland.
Roderick declared that he must get at work and requested Christina to take her usual position, and Mrs. Light proposed to her visitor that they should adjourn to her boudoir. This was a small room, hardly more spacious than a recess, opening out of the drawing-room and having no other issue. Here, as they entered, on a divan near the door, Rowland perceived the constant Cavaliere, with his arms folded, his head dropped upon his breast and his eyes closed.
"Sleeping at his post!" laughed Rowland.
"That's a punishable offence," rejoined Mrs. Light sharply. She was on the point of calling him in the same tone when he suddenly opened his eyes, stared a moment and then rose with a smile and a bow.
"Excuse me, dear lady," he said, "I was overcome by the—the great heat."
"Nonsense, Cavaliere!" cried the lady; "you know we're perishing here with the cold! You had better go and cool yourself in one of the other rooms."
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