THE PRINCESS
was that both of recurrent wonder and recurrent protest. She went over to it, looked at it afresh and yielded now to her impulse to feel it in her hands. She laid them on it, lifting it up, and was surprised thus with the weight of it—she had seldom handled so much massive gold. That effect itself somehow prompted her to further freedom and presently to saying: "I don't believe in this, you know."
It brought Maggie round to her. "Don't believe in it? You will when I tell you."
"Ah tell me nothing! I won't have it," said Mrs. Assingham. She kept the cup in her hand, held it there in a manner that gave Maggie's attention to her, she saw the next moment, a quality of excited suspense. This suggested to her oddly that she had, with the liberty she was taking, an air of intention, and the impression betrayed by her companion's eyes grew more distinct on the latter's part in a word of warning.
"It's of value, but its value's impaired, I've learned, by a crack."
"A crack?—in the gold—? "
"It isn't gold." With which, Maggie somewhat strangely smiled. "That's the point."
"What is it then?"
"It's glass—and cracked, under the gilt, as I say, at that."
"Glass?—of this weight?"
"Well," said Maggie, "it's crystal—and was once I suppose precious. But what," she then asked, "do you mean to do with it?"
She had come away from her window, one of the
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