The Conti had fewer near relations than most Roman families, for of
late they had not been numerous. The Prince's only sister had died
childless, the dowager Princess was a Pole, and her daughter-in-law
was a Tuscan. Sabina and her generation had therefore no first
cousins; and those who were one degree or more removed were glad that
they had not been asked to take charge of the girl after the
catastrophe. It would have been all very well merely to give her a
room and a place at table, but the older ones shook their heads, and
said that before long the Baroness Volterra would have to dress her
too, and give her pocket-money. Her good-for-nothing brother would not
do anything for her, if he could, and the Princess, who was amusing
herself in Poland, if not in Paris, was capable of forgetting her
existence for a year at a time.

All these things greatly enhanced the outward and visible merit of the
Volterra couple, but made Sabina's position daily less endurable. So
the Baroness laid up treasures in heaven while Sabina unwillingly
stored trouble on earth.

She was proud, to begin with. It was bad enough to have been ordered
by her mother to accept the hospitality of people she did not like,
but it was almost unbearable to realize by degrees that she was living
on their effusive charity. If she had been as vain as she was proud,
she would probably have left their house to take refuge in her
sister's convent, for her vanity could not have borne the certainty
that all society knew what her position was. The foundation of pride
is the wish to respect oneself, whatever others may think; the
mainspring of vanity is the craving for the admiration of others, no
matter at what cost to one's self-respect. In the Conti family these