" The Princess laughed.
"What became of him?" Sabina asked.
"He shot himself one day in Geneva, poor boy, because he was bored. I
was always sorry, though they would not have let me marry him, because
he had lost all his money at cards." The Princess sighed. "Of course
you want a lot of new clothes, my dear," she said, changing the
subject rather suddenly. "Have you nothing but that to wear?"
Sabina's things had not yet come from the Via Ludovisi. She explained
that she had plenty of clothes.
"I fancy they are nothing but rags," her mother answered
incredulously. "We shall have to go to Paris in any case for your
trousseau. You cannot get anything here."
"But we have no money," objected Sabina.
"As if that made any difference! We can always get money, somehow.
What a child you are!"
Sabina said nothing, for she knew that her mother always managed to
have what she wanted, even when it looked quite impossible. The girl
had been brought up in the atmosphere of perpetual debt and borrowing
which seemed natural to the Princess, and nothing of that sort
surprised her, though it was all contrary to her own instinctively
conscientious and honourable nature.
Her mother had always been a mystery to her, and now, as Sabina sat
near her, she crossed her feet, which were encased in a pair of the
Princess's slippers, and looked at her as she had often looked before,
wondering how such a reckless, scatter-brained, almost penniless woman
could have remained the great personage which the world always
considered her to be, and that, too, without the slightest effort on
her part to maintain her position.
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