to her."
"Such a matter would have to be made very plain to me," smiled Isabel.
"I'm glad, at any rate, to hear you talk of settling. Madame Merle had given me an idea that you
were of a rather roving disposition. I thought she spoke of your having some plan of going round
the world."
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"I'm rather ashamed of my plans; I make a new one every day."
"I don't see why you should be ashamed; it's the greatest of pleasures."
"It seems frivolous, I think," said Isabel. "One ought to choose something very deliberately, and be
faithful to that."
"By that rule then, I've not been frivolous."
"Have you never made plans?"
"Yes, I made one years ago, and I'm acting on it to-day."
"It must have been a very pleasant one," Isabel permitted herself to observe.
"It was very simple. It was to be as quiet as possible."
"As quiet?" the girl repeated.
"Not to worry--not to strive nor struggle. To resign myself. To be content with little." He spoke
these sentences slowly, with short pauses between, and his intelligent regard was fixed on his
visitor's with the conscious air of a man who has brought himself to confess something.
"Do you call that simple?" she asked with mild irony.
"Yes, because it's negative."
"Has your life been negative?"
"Call it affirmative if you like. Only it has affirmed my indifference. Mind you, not my natural
indifference--I HAD none. But my studied, my wilful renunciation."
She scarcely understood him; it seemed a question whether he were joking or not. Why should a
man who struck her as having a great fund of reserve suddenly bring himself to be so confidential?
This was his affair, however, and his confidences were interesting. "I don't see why you should
have renounced," she said in a moment.
"Because I could do nothing. I had no prospects, I was poor, and I was not a man of genius. I had
no talents even; I took my measure early in life. I was simply the most fastidious young gentleman
living. There were two or three people in the world I envied--the Emperor of Russia, for instance,
and the Sultan of Turkey! There were even moments when I envied the Pope of Rome-- for the
consideration he enjoys. I should have been delighted to be considered to that extent; but since that
couldn't be I didn't care for anything less, and I made up my mind not to go in for honours. The
leanest gentleman can always consider himself, and fortunately I was, though lean, a gentleman. I
could do nothing in Italy--I couldn't even be an Italian patriot. To do that I should have had to get
out of the country; and I was too fond of it to leave it, to say nothing of my being too well satisfied
with it, on the whole, as it then was, to wish it altered. So I've passed a great many years here on
that quiet plan I spoke of. I've not been at all unhappy. I don't mean to say I've cared for nothing;
but the things I've cared for have been definite-- limited. The events of my life have been
absolutely unperceived by any one save myself; getting an old silver crucifix at a bargain (I've
never bought anything dear, of course), or discovering, as I once did, a sketch by Correggio on a
panel daubed over by some inspired idiot."
This would have been rather a dry account of Mr. Osmond's career if Isabel had fully believed it;
but her imagination supplied the human element which she was sure had not been wanting. His life
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had been mingled with other lives more than he admitted; naturally she couldn't expect him to
enter into this. For the present she abstained from provoking further revelations; to intimate that he
had not told her everything would be more familiar and less considerate than she now desired to
be--would in fact be uproariously vulgar. He had certainly told her quite enough. It was her present
inclination, however, to express a measured sympathy for the success with which he had preserved
his independence. "That's a very pleasant life," she said, "to renounce everything but Correggio!"
"Oh, I've made in my way a good thing of it. Don't imagine I'm whining about it. It's one's own
fault if one isn't happy."
This was large; she kept down to something smaller. "Have you lived here always?"
"No, not always. I lived a long time at Naples, and many years in Rome. But I've been here a good
while. Perhaps I shall have to change, however; to do something else. I've no longer myself to
think of. My daughter's growing up and may very possibly not care so much for the Correggios
and crucifixes as I. I shall have to do what's best for Pansy."
"Yes, do that," said Isabel. "She's such a dear little girl."
"Ah," cried Gilbert Osmond beautifully, "she's a little saint of heaven! She is my great happiness!"
CHAPTER XXV
While this sufficiently intimate colloquy (prolonged for some time after we cease to follow it)
went forward Madame Merle and her companion, breaking a silence of some duration, had begun
to exchange remarks. They were sitting in an attitude of unexpressed expectancy; an attitude
especially marked on the part of the Countess Gemini, who, being of a more nervous temperament
than her friend, practised with less success the art of disguising impatience. What these ladies were
waiting for would not have been apparent and was perhaps not very definite to their own minds.
Madame Merle waited for Osmond to release their young friend from her tete-a-tete, and the
Countess waited because Madame Merle did. The Countess, moreover, by waiting, found the time
ripe for one of her pretty perversities. She might have desired for some minutes to place it. Her
brother wandered with Isabel to the end of the garden, to which point her eyes followed them.
"My dear," she then observed to her companion, "you'll excuse me if I don't congratulate you!"
"Very willingly, for I don't in the least know why you should."
"Haven't you a little plan that you think rather well of?" And the Countess nodded at the
sequestered couple.
Madame Merle's eyes took the same direction; then she looked serenely at her neighbour. "You
know I never understand you very well," she smiled.
"No one can understand better than you when you wish. I see that just now you DON'T wish."
"You say things to me that no one else does," said Madame Merle gravely, yet without bitterness.
"You mean things you don't like? Doesn't Osmond sometimes say such things?"
"What your brother says has a point."
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"Yes, a poisoned one sometimes. If you mean that I'm not so clever as he you mustn't think I shall
suffer from your sense of our difference. But it will be much better that you should understand
me."
"Why so?" asked Madame Merle. "To what will it conduce?"
"If I don't approve of your plan you ought to know it in order to appreciate the danger of my
interfering with it."
Madame Merle looked as if she were ready to admit that there might be something in this; but in a
moment she said quietly: "You think me more calculating than I am."
"It's not your calculating I think ill of; it's your calculating wrong. You've done so in this case."
"You must have made extensive calculations yourself to discover that."
"No, I've not had time. I've seen the girl but this once," said the Countess, "and the conviction has
suddenly come to me. I like her very much."
"So do I," Madame Merle mentioned.
"You've a strange way of showing it."
"Surely I've given her the advantage of making your acquaintance."
"That indeed," piped the Countess, "is perhaps the best thing that could happen to her!"
Madame Merle said nothing for some time. The Countess's manner was odious, was really low;
but it was an old story, and with her eyes upon the violet slope of Monte Morello she gave herself
up to reflection. "My dear lady," she finally resumed, "I advise you not to agitate yourself. The
matter you allude to concerns three persons much stronger of purpose than yourself."
"Three persons? You and Osmond of course. But is Miss Archer also very strong of purpose?"
"Quite as much so as we."
"Ah then," said the Countess radiantly, "if I convince her it's her interest to resist you she'll do so
successfully!"
"Resist us? Why do you express yourself so coarsely? She's not exposed to compulsion or
deception."
"I'm not sure of that. You're capable of anything, you and Osmond. I don't mean Osmond by
himself, and I don't mean you by yourself. But together you're dangerous--like some chemical
combination."
"You had better leave us alone then," smiled Madame Merle.
"I don't mean to touch you--but I shall talk to that girl."
"My poor Amy," Madame Merle murmured, "I don't see what has got into your head."
"I take an interest in her--that's what has got into my head. I like her."
Madame Merle hesitated a moment. "I don't think she likes you."
The Countess's bright little eyes expanded and her face was set in a grimace. "Ah, you ARE
dangerous--even by yourself!"
"If you want her to like you don't abuse your brother to her," said Madame Merle.
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"I don't suppose you pretend she has fallen in love with him in two interviews."
Madame Merle looked a moment at Isabel and at the master of the house. He was leaning against
the parapet, facing her, his arms folded; and she at present was evidently not lost in the mere
impersonal view, persistently as she gazed at it. As Madame Merle watched her she lowered her
eyes; she was listening, possibly with a certain embarrassment, while she pressed the point of her
parasol into the path. Madame Merle rose from her chair. "Yes, I think so!" she pronounced.
The shabby footboy, summoned by Pansy--he might, tarnished as to livery and quaint as to type,
have issued from some stray sketch of old-time manners, been "put in" by the brush of a Longhi or
a Goya--had come out with a small table and placed it on the grass, and then had gone back and
fetched the tea-tray; after which he had again disappeared, to return with a couple of chairs. Pansy
had watched these proceedings with the deepest interest, standing with her small hands folded
together upon the front of her scanty frock; but she had not presumed to offer assistance. When the
tea-table had been arranged, however, she gently approached her aunt.
"Do you think papa would object to my making the tea?"
The Countess looked at her with a deliberately critical gaze and without answering her question.
"My poor niece," she said, "is that your best frock?"
"Ah no," Pansy answered, "it's just a little toilette for common occasions."
"Do you call it a common occasion when I come to see you?--to say nothing of Madame Merle and
the pretty lady yonder."
Pansy reflected a moment, turning gravely from one of the persons mentioned to the other. Then
her face broke into its perfect smile. "I have a pretty dress, but even that one's very simple. Why
should I expose it beside your beautiful things?"
"Because it's the prettiest you have; for me you must always wear the prettiest. Please put it on the
next time. It seems to me they don't dress you so well as they might."
The child sparingly stroked down her antiquated skirt. "It's a good little dress to make tea--don't
you think? Don't you believe papa would allow me?"
"Impossible for me to say, my child," said the Countess. "For me, your father's ideas are
unfathomable. Madame Merle understands them better. Ask HER."
Madame Merle smiled with her usual grace. "It's a weighty question--let me think. It seems to me
it would please your father to see a careful little daughter making his tea. It's the proper duty of the
daughter of the house--when she grows up."
"So it seems to me, Madame Merle!" Pansy cried. "You shall see how well I'll make it. A spoonful
for each." And she began to busy herself at the table.
"Two spoonfuls for me," said the Countess, who, with Madame Merle, remained for some
moments watching her. "Listen to me, Pansy," the Countess resumed at last. "I should like to know
what you think of your visitor."
"Ah, she's not mine--she's papa's," Pansy objected.
"Miss Archer came to see you as well," said Madame Merle.
"I'm very happy to hear that. She has been very polite to me."
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"Do you like her then?" the Countess asked.
"She's charming--charming," Pansy repeated in her little neat conversational tone. "She pleases me
thoroughly."
"And how do you think she pleases your father?"
"Ah really, Countess!" murmured Madame Merle dissuasively. "Go and call them to tea," she went
on to the child.
"You'll see if they don't like it!" Pansy declared; and departed to summon the others, who had still
lingered at the end of the terrace.
"If Miss Archer's to become her mother it's surely interesting to know if the child likes her," said
the Countess.
"If your brother marries again it won't be for Pansy's sake," Madame Merle replied. "She'll soon be
sixteen, and after that she'll begin to need a husband rather than a stepmother."
"And will you provide the husband as well?"
"I shall certainly take an interest in her marrying fortunately. I imagine you'll do the same."
"Indeed I shan't!" cried the Countess. "Why should I, of all women, set such a price on a
husband?"
"You didn't marry fortunately; that's what I'm speaking of. When I say a husband I mean a good
one."
"There are no good ones. Osmond won't be a good one."
Madame Merle closed her eyes a moment. "You're irritated just now; I don't know why," she
presently said. "I don't think you'll really object either to your brother's or to your niece's marrying,
when the time comes for them to do so; and as regards Pansy I'm confident that we shall some day
have the pleasure of looking for a husband for her together. Your large acquaintance will be a great
help."
"Yes, I'm irritated," the Countess answered. "You often irritate me. Your own coolness is fabulous.
You're a strange woman."
"It's much better that we should always act together," Madame Merle went on.
"Do you mean that as a threat?" asked the Countess rising. Madame Merle shook her head as for
quiet amusement. "No indeed, you've not my coolness!"
Isabel and Mr. Osmond were now slowly coming toward them and Isabel had taken Pansy by the
hand. "Do you pretend to believe he'd make her happy?" the Countess demanded.
"If he should marry Miss Archer I suppose he'd behave like a gentleman."
The Countess jerked herself into a succession of attitudes. "Do you mean as most gentlemen
behave? That would be much to be thankful for! Of course Osmond's a gentleman; his own sister
needn't be reminded of that. But does he think he can marry any girl he happens to pick out?
Osmond's a gentleman, of course; but I must say I've NEVER, no, no, never, seen any one of
Osmond's pretensions! What they're all founded on is more than I can say. I'm his own sister; I
might he supposed to know. Who is he, if you please? What has he ever done? If there had been
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anything particularly grand in his origin--if he were made of some superior clay--I presume I
should have got some inkling of it. If there had been any great honours or splendours in the family
I should certainly have made the most of them: they would have been quite in my line. But there's
nothing, nothing, nothing. One's parents were charming people of course; but so were yours, I've
no doubt. Every one's a charming person nowadays. Even I'm a charming person; don't laugh, it
has literally been said. As for Osmond, he has always appeared to believe that he's descended from
the gods."
"You may say what you please," said Madame Merle, who had listened to this quick outbreak none
the less attentively, we may believe, because her eye wandered away from the speaker and her
hands busied themselves with adjusting the knots of ribbon on her dress. "You Osmonds are a fine
race--your blood must flow from some very pure source. Your brother, like an intelligent man, has
had the conviction of it if he has not had the proofs. You're modest about it, but you yourself are
extremely distinguished. What do you say about your niece? The child's a little princess.
Nevertheless," Madame Merle added, "it won't be an easy matter for Osmond to marry Miss
Archer. Yet he can try."
"I hope she'll refuse him. It will take him down a little."
"We mustn't forget that he is one of the cleverest of men."
"I've heard you say that before, but I haven't yet discovered what he has done."
"What he has done? He has done nothing that has had to be undone. And he has known how to
wait."
"To wait for Miss Archer's money? How much of it is there?"
"That's not what I mean," said Madame Merle. "Miss Archer has seventy thousand pounds."
"Well, it's a pity she's so charming," the Countess declared. "To be sacrificed, any girl would do.
She needn't be superior."
"If she weren't superior your brother would never look at her. He must have the best."
"Yes," returned the Countess as they went forward a little to meet the others, "he's very hard to
satisfy. That makes me tremble for her happiness!"
CHAPTER XXVI
Gilbert Osmond came to see Isabel again; that is he came to Palazzo Crescentini. He had other
friends there as well, and to Mrs. Touchett and Madame Merle he was always impartially civil; but
the former of these ladies noted the fact that in the course of a fortnight he called five times, and
compared it with another fact that she found no difficulty in remembering. Two visits a year had
hitherto constituted his regular tribute to Mrs. Touchett's worth, and she had never observed him
select for such visits those moments, of almost periodical recurrence, when Madame Merle was
under her roof. It was not for Madame Merle that he came; these two were old friends and he never
put himself out for her. He was not fond of Ralph--Ralph had told her so--and it was not
supposable that Mr. Osmond had suddenly taken a fancy to her son. Ralph was imperturbable-Ralph
had a kind of loose-fitting urbanity that wrapped him about like an ill-made overcoat, but of
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which he never divested himself; he thought Mr. Osmond very good company and was willing at
any time to look at him in the light of hospitality. But he didn't flatter himself that the desire to
repair a past injustice was the motive of their visitor's calls; he read the situation more clearly.
Isabel was the attraction, and in all conscience a sufficient one. Osmond was a critic, a student of
the exquisite, and it was natural he should be curious of so rare an apparition. So when his mother
observed to him that it was plain what Mr. Osmond was thinking of, Ralph replied that he was
quite of her opinion. Mrs. Touchett had from far back found a place on her scant list for this
gentleman, though wondering dimly by what art and what process--so negative and so wise as they
were--he had everywhere effectively imposed himself. As he had never been an importunate
visitor he had had no chance to be offensive, and he was recommended to her by his appearance of
