 Chapter 28 On the morrow, in the evening, Lord Warburton went again to see his friends at their hotel, and at this establishment he learned that they had gone to the opera. He drove to the opera with the idea of paying them a visit in their box after the easy Italian fashion, and when he had obtained his admittance—it was one of the secondary theatres—looked about the large, bare, ill-lighted house. An act had just terminated, and he was at liberty to pursue his quest. After scanning two or three tiers of boxes, he perceived in one of the largest of these receptacles a lady whom he easily recognized. Miss Archer was seated, facing the stage, and partly screened by the curtain of the box, and beside her, leaning back in his chair, was Mr. Gilbert Osmond. They appeared to have the place to themselves, and Warburton supposed their companions had taken advantage of the recess to enjoy the relative coolness of the lobby. He stood a while with his eyes on the interesting pair. He asked himself if he should go up and interrupt the harmony. At last he judged that Isabel had seen him, and this accident determined him. There should be no marked holding off. He took his way to the upper regions, and on the staircase he met Ralph Touchard, slowly descending, his hat on the inclination of Ennui, and his hands where they usually were. I saw you below a moment since, and was going down to you. I feel lonely and want company, was Ralph's greeting. You've some that's very good, which you've yet deserted. Do you mean my cousin? Oh, she has a visitor and doesn't want me. Then Miss Stackpole and Bantling have gone out to a cafe to eat an ice. Miss Stackpole delights in an ice. I didn't think they wanted me either. The opera's very bad. The women look like laundresses, and sing like peacocks. I feel very low. You had better go home, Lord Warbiton said without effectation. And leave my young lady in this sad place? Ah, no, I must watch over her. She seems to have plenty of friends. Yes, that's why I must watch, said Ralph, with the same large mock melancholy. If she doesn't want you, it's probable she doesn't want me. No, you're different. Go to the box and stay there while I walk about. Lord Warbiton went to the box, where Isabel's welcome was asked to a friend so honourably old that he vaguely asked himself what queer temporal province she was annexing. He exchanged greetings with Mr. Osmond, to whom he had been introduced the day before, and who, after he came in, sat blandly apart and silent, as if repudiating competence in the subjects of illusion now probable. It struck her second visitor that Miss Altra had, in operatic conditions, a radiance, even a slight exaltation. As she was, however, at all times a keenly glancing, quickly moving, completely animated young woman, he may have been mistaken on this point. Her talk with him, moreover, pointed to presence of mind. It expressed the kindness so ingenious and deliberate as to indicate that she was in undisturbed possession of her faculties. Poor Lord Warbiton had moments of bewilderment. She had discouraged him, formally, as much as a woman could. What business had she then, with such arts and such felicities, above all with such tones of reparation? Preparation. Her voice had tricks of sweetness. But why play them on him? The others came back. The bare, familiar, trivial opera began again. The box was large, and there was room for him to remain if he would sit a little behind and in the dark. He did so for half an hour, while Mr. Osman remained in front, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, just behind Isabel. Lord Warbiton heard nothing, and from his gloomy corner saw nothing but the clear profile of his young lady, defined against the dim illumination of the house. When there was another interval, no one moved. Mr. Osman talked to Isabel, and Lord Warbiton kept his corner. He did so but for a short time, however, after which he got up and bathed good night to the ladies. Isabel said nothing to detain him, but it didn't prevent his being puzzled again. Why should she mark so one of his values, quite the wrong one, when she would have nothing to do with another, which was quite the right? He was angry with himself for being puzzled, and then angry for being angry. Verdi's music did little to comfort him, and he left the theatre and walked homeward, without knowing his way, through the torturous, tragic streets of Rome, where heavier sorrows than his had been carried under the stars. What's the character of that gentleman, Osman asked of Isabel, after he had retired? Irreproachable. Don't you see it? He owns about half England. That's his character. Henrietta remarked. That's what they call a free country. Oh, he's a great proprietor. Happy man, said Gilbert Osman. Do you call that happiness, the ownership of wretched human beings? cried Miss Stackpole. He owns his tenants and has thousands of them. It's pleasant to own something, but inanimate objects are enough for me. I don't insist on flesh and blood and minds and consciences. It seems to me you own a human being or two, Mr. Bandling suggested jokestly. I wonder if Warbiton orders his tenants about, as you do me. Lord Warbiton's a great radical, Isabel said. He has very advanced opinions. He has very advanced stone walls, his parks enclosed by a gigantic iron fence, some thirty miles round, Henrietta announced for the information of Mr. Osman. I should like him to converse with a few of our Boston radicals. Don't they approve of iron fences? asked Mr. Bandling. Only to shut up wicked conservatives. I always feel as if I were talking to you over something with a neat top finish of broken glass. Do you know him well, this unreformed reformer? Osman went on, questioning Isabel. Well enough for all the use I have for him. And how much of a use is that? Well, I like to like him. Liking to like? Why, it makes a passion, said Osman. No, she considered, keeps that for liking to dislike. Do you wish to provoke me, then? Osman laughed, to a passion for him. She said nothing for a moment, but then met the light question with a disproportionate gravity. No, Mr. Osman, I do not think I should ever dare to provoke you. Lord Warburton at any rate, she more easily added, is a very nice man. Of great ability, her friend inquired. Of excellent ability, and as good as he looks. As good as he is good-looking, do you mean? He is very good-looking. How do you testably fortunate? To be a great English magnet, to be clever and handsome into the bargain, and by way of finishing off, to enjoy your high favour. That's a man I could envy. Isabel considered him with interest. You seemed to me to be always envying someone. Yesterday it was the Pope. Today it's poor Lord Warburton. My envy's not dangerous. I wouldn't hurt a mouse. I don't want to destroy the people. I only want to be them. You see, it would destroy only myself. You'd like to be the Pope? said Isabel. I should love it, but I should have gone in for it earlier. But why, Osman reverted, do you speak of your friend as poor? Women, when they are very, very good, sometimes pity men after they've hurt them. That's their great way of showing kindness, said Ralph. Joining in the conversation for the first time and with a cynicism so transparently ingenious as to be virtually innocent. Pray, have I hurt Lord Warburton? Isabel asked, raising her eyebrows as if the idea were perfectly fresh. It serves him right, if you have, said Henrietta, while the curtain rose for the ballet. Isabel saw no more of her attributive victim for the next twenty-four hours, but on the second day after the visit to the opera she encountered him in the gallery of the capital, where he stood before the lion of the collection, the statue of the dying gladiator. She had come in with her companions, among whom, on this occasion again, Gilbert Osmond had his place, and the party, having ascended the staircase, entered the first and finest of the rooms. Lord Warburton addressed her alertly enough, but said in a moment that he was leaving the gallery. And I'm leaving Rome, he added. I must bid you good-bye. Isabel, inconsequently enough, was now sorry to hear it. This was perhaps because she had ceased to be afraid of his renewing his suit. She was thinking of something else. She was on the point of naming her regret, but she checked herself and simply wished him a happy journey, which made him look at her rather unlightedly. I'm afraid he'll think me very volatile. I told you the other day I wanted so much to stop. Oh no, you could easily change your mind. That's what I have done. Bon voyage, then. You're in a great hurry to get rid of me, said his lordship, quite dismally. Not in the least, but I hate partings. He don't care what I do, he went on pitifully. Isabel looked at him a moment. Ah, she said, you're not keeping your promise. He coloured like a boy of fifteen. If I'm not, then it's because I can't, and that's why I'm going. Good-bye, then. Good-bye. He lingered still, however. When shall I see you again? Isabel hesitated, but soon, as if she had a happy inspiration. One day after you're married. That will never be. It will be after you are. That will do as well, she smiled. Yes, quite as well. Good-bye. They shook hands, and he left her alone in the glorious room, among the shining antique marbles. She sat down in the centre of the circle of these presences, regarding them vaguely, resting her eyes on their beautiful blank faces, listening, as it were, to their eternal silence. It is impossible, in Rome at least, to look long at a great company of Greek sculptures without feeling the effect of their noble quietude, which, as with a high door closed for the ceremony, slowly drops on the spirit the large white mantle of peace. I say in Rome especially, because the Roman air is an exquisite medium for such impressions. The golden sunshine mingles with them, the deep stillness of the past, so vivid yet, though it is nothing but a void full of names, seems to throw a solemn spell upon them. The blinds were partly closed in the windows of the capital, and a clear warm shadow rested on the figures, and made them more mildly human. Isabel sat there a long time, under the charm of their motionless grace, wondering to what, of their experience, their absent eyes were open, and how, to our ears, their alien lips would sound. The dark red walls of the room, through the mental relief, the polished marble floor reflected their beauty. She had seen them all before, but her enjoyment repeated itself, and it was all the greater because she was glad again, for the time, to be alone. At last, however, her attention lapsed, drawn off by a deeper tide of life. An occasional tourist came in, walked, and stared a moment at the dying gladiator, and then passed out of the other door, creaking over the smooth pavement. At the end of half an hour, Gilbert Osmond reappeared, apparently in advance of his companions. He strolled toward her slowly, with his hands behind him, and his usual, inquiring, yet not quite appealing, smile. I'm surprised to find you alone. I thought you had company. Well, I have, the best, and she glanced at the antinous and the fawn. Do you call them better company than an English pier? Ah, my English pier left me some time ago. She got up, speaking with intention a little dryly. Mr. Osmond noted her dryness, which contributed for him to the interest of his question. I'm afraid that what I heard the other evening is true. You're rather cruel to that nobleman. Gilbert looked a moment at the vanquished gladiator. It's not true. I'm scrupulously kind. That's exactly what I mean. Gilbert Osmond returned, and with such happy hilarity that his joke needs to be explained. We know that he was fond of originals, of rarities, of the superior and the exquisite, and now that he had seen Lord Warburton, whom he thought a very fine example of his race and order, he perceived a new attraction in the idea of taking to himself a young lady who had qualified herself to figure in his collection of choice objects by declining so noble a hand. Gilbert Osmond had a high appreciation of this particular patriciate. Not so much for its distinction which he thought easily surpassable, but for its solid actuality. He had never forgiven his staff for not appointing him to an English dukedom, and he could measure the unexpectedness of such conduct as Isobols. It would be proper that the woman he might marry should have done something of that sort. End of Chapter 28 Chapter 29 of The Portrait of a Lady, Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Allison Tonner, Arlington, Virginia, www.winnerspast.blogspot.com The Portrait of a Lady, Volume 2, Chapter 29 Ralph Touche, in talk with his excellent friend, had rather markedly qualified, as we know, his recognition of Gilbert Osmond's personal merits. But he might really have felt himself illiberal in the light of that gentleman's conduct during the rest of the visit to Rome. Osmond spent a portion of each day with Isobel and her companions, and ended by affecting them as the easiest of men to live with. Who couldn't have thought that he could come in, as it were? Both tact and gaiety, which perhaps was exactly why Ralph had made his old time look of superficial sociability a reproach to him. Even Isobel's invidious kinsman was obliged to admit that he was just now a delightful associate. His good humor was imperturbable, his knowledge of the right fact, his production of the right word, as convenient as the friendly flicker of a match for your cigarette. Clearly he was amused, as amused as a man could be, who was so little ever surprised, and that made him almost aplausive. It was not that his spirits were visibly high, he would never, in the concert of pleasure, touch the big drum by so much as a knuckle. He had a mortal dislike to the high ragged note, to what he called random ravings. He thought misarcher sometimes of too precipitant a readiness. It was pity she had that fault, because if she had not had it she would really have had none. She would have been as smooth to his general need of her as handled ivory to the palm. If he was not personally lad, however, he was deep. And during these closing days of the Roman May he knew a complacency that latched with slow irregular walks under the pines of the Villa Borghese, among the small, sweet metal flowers and the mossy marbles. He was pleased with everything. He had never before been pleased with so many things at once. Old impressions, old enjoyments renewed themselves. One evening, going home to his room at the end, he wrote down a little sonnet to which he prefixed the title of Rome Revisited. A day or two later he showed this piece of correct and ingenious verse to Isabel, explaining to her that it was an Italian fashion to commemorate the occasions of life by tribute to the muse. He took his pleasures in general singling. He was too often, he would have admitted that, too sorely aware of something wrong, something ugly, the fertilizing dual of a conceivable felicity, too seldom descended on his spirit. But at present he was happy, happier than he had perhaps ever been in his life, and the feeling had a large foundation. This was simply the sense of success. The most agreeable emotion of the human heart, Osmond had never had too much of it. In this respect he had the irritation of satiety, as he knew perfectly well and often reminded himself, oh no, I've not been spoiled, certainly I've not been spoiled, he used him really to repeat. If I do succeed before I die I shall thoroughly have earned it. He was too apt to reason as if earning this spoon consisted above all of covertly aching for it, and might be confined to that exercise. Absolutely void of it also, his career had not been. He might indeed have suggested to a spectator here and there that he was resting on vague laurels. But his triumphs were, some of them, now too old, others had been too easy. The present one had been less arduous than might have been expected, but had been easy. That is, had been rapid, only because he had made an altogether exceptional effort, a greater one than he had believed in him to make. The desire to have something or other to show for his parts, to show somehow or other, had been the dream of his youth. But as the years went on the conditions attached to any marked proof of rarity had affected him more and more as gross and detestable, like the swallowing of mugs of beer to advertise what one could stand. If an anonymous drawing on a museum wall had been conscious and watchful it might have known the peculiar pleasure of being at last and all of a sudden identified, as from the hand of a great master. By the so high and so unnoticed fact of style, his style was what that girl had discovered with a little help, and now, beside herself enjoying it, she should publish it to the world without his having any of the trouble. She should do the thing for him, and he would not have waited in vain. Shortly before the time fixed in advance for her departure this young lady received from Mrs. Touche a telegram running as follows, leave Florence fourth June for Bellagio, and take you if you have not other views. But can't wait if you doddle in Rome. The dabbling in Rome was very pleasant, but Isabelle had different views, and she let her aunt know she would immediately join her. She told Gilbert Osmald that she had done so, and he replied that, spending many of his summers as well as his winters in Italy, he himself would loiter a little longer in the cool shadow of St. Peter's. He would not return to Florence for ten days more, and in this time she would have started for Bellagio. It might be months in this case before he should see her again. This exchange took place in the large decorated sitting room occupied by our friends at the hotel. It was late in the morning, and Ralph Touche was to take his cousin back to Florence on the morrow. Osmald had found the girl alone. Miss Stackpole had contracted a friendship with a delightful American family on the fourth floor, and had mounted the interminable staircase to pay them a visit. Henrietta contracted friendships in traveling with great freedom, and had formed in railway carriages several that were among her most valued ties. Ralph was making arrangements for the morrow's journey, and Isabelle sat alone in a wilderness of yellow upholstery. The chairs and silvas were orange. The walls and windows were draped. The mirrors, the pictures, had great flamboyant frames. The ceiling was deeply vaulted and painted over with naked muses and cherubs. For Osmald the place was ugly to distress. The false colors, the sham splendor were like vulgar, bragging, lying talk. Isabelle had taken in hand a volume of ampere, presented on the arrival in Rome by Ralph. But though she held it in her lap with her finger vaguely held in the place, she was not impatient to pursue her steady. A lamp covered with a drooping veil of pink tissue paper burned on the table beside her, and diffused a strange pale rosiness over the scene. You say you'll come back, but who knows, Gilbert Osmond said. I think you're much more likely to start on your voyage around the world. If you're under no obligation to come back, you can do exactly what you choose. You can roam through space. Well, Italy's a part of space, Isabelle answered. I can take it on the way. On the way around the world? No, don't do that. Don't put us in parentheses. Give us a chapter to ourselves. I don't want to see you on your travels. I'd rather see you when they're over. I should like to see you when you're tired and satiated, Osmond added in a moment. I shall prefer you in that state. Isabelle, with her eyes bent, fingered the pages of M. M. Perry. He turned things into ridicule without seeming to do it, though not, I think, without intending it. Even with no respect for my travels, you think they're ridiculous. Where do you find that? She went on in the same tone, fretting the edge of her book with a paper knife. You see my ignorance, my blunders, the way I wander about the world as if the world belonged to me. Something because it has been put in my power to do so. You don't think a woman ought to do that. You think it bold and ungraceful. I think it beautiful, said Osmond. You know my opinions. I've treated you to enough of them. Don't you remember my telling you that one ought to make one's life a work of art? You looked rather shocked at first, but then I told you that it was exactly what you seemed to me to be trying to do with your own. She looked at it from her book. What you despise most in the world is bad. It's stupid art. Possibly, but yours seems to be very clear and very good. If I were to go to Japan next winter, you would laugh at me, she went on. Osmond gave a smile, a keen one, but not a laugh. The tone of their conversation was not jacuzzi. Isabelle had in fact her solemnity. He had seen it before. You have one. That's exactly what I say. You think such an idea absurd. I would give my little finger to go to Japan. It's one of the countries I want most to see. Can't you believe that with my taste for old lacquer? I haven't a taste for old lacquer to excuse me, said Isabelle. You have a better excuse. The means of going. You're quite wrong in your theory that I laugh at you. I don't know what has put it into your head. It wouldn't be remarkable if you did think it ridiculous that I should have the means to travel when you've not. For you know everything and I know nothing. The more reason why you should travel and learn, smile, Osmond. Besides, he added, as if it were a point to view it, I don't know everything. Isabelle was not struck with the oddity of his saying scrably. She was thinking that the pleasantest of her life. So it pleased her to qualify these two few days in Rome. But she might musingly have likened to the figure of some small princess of one of the ages of dress obromuffled in a mantle of state and dragging a train that it took pages or historians to hold up. But this velocity was coming to an end. That most of the interest of the time had been owing to Mr. Osmond was a reflection she was not just now at pains to make. She had already done justice. But she said to herself that if there were a danger they should never meet again. Perhaps after all it would be as well. Happy things don't repeat themselves and her adventure were already the changed, the seaward face of some romantic island from which after feasting on purple grapes she was putting off while the breezes rose. She might come back to Italy and find him different, the strange man who pleased her just as he was and it would be not to come then run the risk of that. But if she was not to come the greater pity that the chapter was closed she felt for a moment a pain that touched the source of tears that sensation kept her silent and Gilbert Osmond was silent too he was thinking at her. Go everywhere he said at last in a low kind voice. Do everything get everything out of life be happy be triumphant What do you mean by being triumphant? Well, doing what you like. To triumph then it seems to me is to fail. Doing all the vain things one likes is often very tiresome. Exactly said Osmond with his quiet quickness. As I intimated just now he will be tired some day. He paused a moment and then went on. I don't know whether I'd better not wait till then for something I want to say to you. I can't advise you without knowing what it is but I'm horrid when I'm tired I'm glad with due and consequence I don't believe that you're angry sometimes that I can believe that I've never seen it but I'm sure you'll never cross not even when I lose my temper you don't lose it, you find it and that must be beautiful. Osmond spoke with a noble earnestness he must be great moments to see if I could only find it now Isabel nervously cried I'm not afraid I should fold my arms and admire you I'm speaking very seriously he leaned forward a hand on each knee for some moments he bent his eyes on the floor what I wish to say to you he went on at last looking up is that I found I'm in love with you she instantly rose ah keep that till I'm tired tired of hearing it from others he sat there raising his eyes to her no you may heed it now or never as you please but after all I must say it now she had turned away but in the movement she had stopped herself and dropped her gaze upon him the two remained a while in that situation exchanging a long look the large conscious look of the critical hours of life then he got up and came near her deeply respectful as if he were afraid he'd been too familiar I'm absolutely in love with you he had repeated the announcement in a tone of almost impersonal discretion like a man who expected very little from it but he spoke for his own needed relief the tears came into her eyes this time they obeyed the sharpness of the pain that suggested to her somehow the slipping of the fine bolt backward, forward she couldn't have said which the words he had uttered made him as he stood there beautiful and generous invested him as with the golden air of early autumn but morally speaking she retreated before them facing him still she had retreated in the other cases before a leg encounter oh, don't say that please she answered with an intensity that expressed the dread of having in this case too to choose and to decide what made her dread great was precisely the four switch as it would seem ought to have banished all dread the sense of something within herself deep down that she's supposed to be inspired and trustful passion which some stored in a bank which there was a terror in having to begin to spend if she touched it it would all come out I haven't the idea that it won't matter much to you said Osmond I have too little to offer you but I have, it's enough for me but it's not enough for you I've neither fortune nor fame nor intrinsic advantages of any kind so I offer nothing I only tell you because I think it can't offend you and some day or other it may give you pleasure I assure you, you and I standing there before her considerably inclined to her turning his hat which she had taken up slowly round with the movement which had all the decent tremor of awkwardness and none of its oddity and presenting to her his firm refined slightly ravaged face it gives me no pain because it's perfectly simple for me you'll always be the most important woman in the world Isabel looked at herself in this character looked intently thinking she filled it with a certain grace but what she said was not an expression of any such complacency you don't offend me but you ought to remember that without being offended one may be incommodated troubled incommodated she heard herself saying that and it struck her as a ridiculous word but it was what stupidly came to her I remember perfectly surprised and startled but if it's nothing but that it will pass away and it will perhaps leave something that I may not be ashamed of I don't know what it may mean you see at all events that I'm not overwhelmed said Isabel rather a pale smile I'm not too troubled to think and I think I'm glad I leave her on tomorrow of course I don't agree with you there I don't at all know you I'm glad I did it properly and then she colored as she heard herself saying what she had said almost a year before to Lord Warburton if you're not going away you'd know me better I shall do that some other time I hope so, I'm very easy to know no, no she emphatically answered there you're not sincere you're not easy to know, no one could be less so well he laughed I said that because I know myself but I do very likely but you rise so are you Ms. Archer Osmond exclaimed I don't feel so just now still I'm wise enough to think you had better go, good night God bless you said Gilbert Osmond taking the hand which she failed to surrender after which she added if we meet again we'll find me as you leave me I shall be so all the same thank you very much goodbye there was something quietly firm about Isabel's visitor he might go up his own movement but he wouldn't be dismissed there's one thing more I haven't asked anything of you not even a thought in the future you must do me that justice but there's a little service I should like to ask I shall not return home for several days Rome's delightful and it's a good place for a man in my state of mind oh I know you're sorry to leave it but you're right to do what your aunt wishes she doesn't even wish it Isabel broke out strangely Osmond was apparently at the point of saying something that would match these words but he changed his mind and rejoined simply oh well it's proper you should go with her very proper to everything that's proper I go in for that excuse my being so patronizing you say you don't know me but when you do you'll discover what a worship I have for propriety people gravely asked I like the way you utter that word now I'm not conventional I'm convention itself you don't understand that and he paused a moment smiling I should like to explain it then with a sudden quick bright naturalness do you come back again pleaded there are so many things we might talk about she stood there with lowered eyes what service did you speak of just now go and see my little daughter before you leave Florence she's alone at the villa I decided not to send her to my sister who hasn't at all my ideas tell her she must love her poor father very much said Gilbert Osmond gently it will be a great pleasure to me to go Isabel answered I'll tell her what you say once more goodbye on this he took a rapid respectful leave when he had gone she stood a moment looking about her and seated herself slowly in with an area of deliberation she sat there till her companions came back with folded hands gazed me at the ugly carpet her agitation for it had not diminished was very still very deep what had happened was something that for a week past her imagination had been going forward to me but here when it came she stopped that sublime principle somehow broke down the working of this young lady's spirit was strange and I can only give it to you as I see it and hoping to make it seem altogether natural her imagination as I say now hung back it was a last vague space it couldn't cross a dusky uncertain tract which looked ambiguous and even slightly treacherous like a more than seen in the winter twilight but she was to cross it yet end of chapter 29 recording by Allison Tonner winterispast.blogspot.com this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Cynthia Lyons the portrait of a lady volume 2 by Henry James chapter 30 she returned on the morrow to Florence under her cousin's escort and Ralph Touche though usually restive under railway discipline thought very well of the successive hours passed in the train that hurried his companion away from the city now distinguished by Gilbert Osman's preference hours that were to form the first stage in a larger scheme of travel Miss Stackpole had remained behind she was planning a little trip to Naples to be carried out with Mr. Bandling's aid Isabelle was to have three days in Florence before the 4th of June the date of Mrs. Touche's departure and she determined to devote the last of these to her promise to call on Pansy Osmond her plan however seemed for a moment likely to modify itself in deference to an idea of Madame Merrill's this lady was still at Casa Touche but she too was on the point of leaving Florence her next station being an ancient castle in the mountains of Tuscany the residence of a noble family of that country whose acquaintance she had known them as she said forever seemed to Isabelle in the light of certain photographs of their immense crenellated dwelling which her friend was able to show her a precious privilege she mentioned to this fortunate woman that Mr. Osmond had asked her to take a look at his daughter but didn't mention that he had also made her a declaration of love ah come s'la se trouve Madame Merrill exclaimed I myself have been thinking it would be a kindness to pay the child a little visit before I go off we can go together then Isabelle reasonably said reasonably because the proposal was not uttered in the spirit of enthusiasm she had prefigured her small pilgrimage as made in solitude she should like it better so she was nevertheless prepared to sacrifice this mystic sentiment to her great consideration for her friend that personage finally meditated after all why should we both go having each of us so much to do during these last hours very good I can easily go alone I don't know about your going alone to the house of a handsome bachelor he has been married but so long ago Isabelle stared when Mr. Osmond's away what does it matter they don't know he's away you see they whom do you mean everyone but perhaps it doesn't signify if you are going why shouldn't I Isabelle asked because I'm an old frump and you're a beautiful young woman granting all that you've not promised how much you think of your promises said the elder woman in mild mockery I think a great deal of my promises does that surprise you you're right Madame Merle audibly reflected I really think you wish to be kind to the child I wish very much to be kind to her go and see her then no one will be the wiser and tell her I'd have come if you hadn't or rather Madame Merle added don't tell her she won't care as Isabelle drove in the publicity of an open vehicle along the winding way which led to Mr. Osman's hilltop she wondered what her friend had meant by no one's being the wiser once in a while at large intervals this lady whose voyaging discretion as a general thing was rather of the open sea than of the risky channel dropped a remark of ambiguous quality that sounded false what cared Isabelle for the vulgar judgments of obscure people and did Madame Merle suppose that she was capable of doing a thing at all if it had to be sneakingly done of course not she must have meant something else something which in the press of the hours that preceded her departure she had not had time to explain Isabelle would return to this some day there were sorts of things as to which she liked to be clear she heard pansy strumming at the piano in another place as she herself was ushered into Mr. Osman's drawing room the little girl was practicing and Isabelle was pleased to think she performed this duty with rigor she immediately came in down her frock and did the honors of her father's house with a wide-eyed earnestness of courtesy Isabelle sat there half an hour and pansy rose to the occasion as the small winged fairy in the pantomime soars by the aid of the dissimulated wire not chattering but conversing and showing the same respectful interest in Isabelle's affairs that Isabelle was so good as to take in hers Isabelle wondered at her she had never had so directly presented to her nose the white flower of cultivated sweetness how well the child had been taught said our admiring young woman how prettily she had been directed and fashioned and yet how simple how natural how innocent she had been kept Isabelle was fond ever of the question of character and quality of sounding as who should say the deep personal mystery and it had pleased her up to this time to be in doubt as to whether this tender slip were not really all knowing was the extremity of her candor but the perfection of self-consciousness was it put on to please her father's visitor or was it the direct expression of an unspotted nature the hour that Isabelle spent in Mr. Osman's beautiful empty dusky rooms the windows had been half darkened to keep out the heat and here and there through an easy crevice the splendid summer day peeped in lighting a gleam of faded color or tarnished guilt in the rich room her interview with the daughter of the house I say effectively settled this question pansy was really a blank page a pure white surface successfully kept so she had neither art nor guile nor temper nor talent only two or three small exquisite instincts for knowing a friend for avoiding mistake taking care of an old toy or a new frock yet to be so tender was to be touching with all and she could be felt as an easy victim of fate she would have no will no power to resist no sense of her own importance she would easily be mystified easily crushed her force would be all in knowing when and where to cling she lived about the place with her visitor who had asked leave to walk through the other rooms again where pansy gave her judgment on several works of art she spoke of her prospects her occupations her father's intentions she was not egotistical but felt the propriety of supplying the information so distinguished a guest would naturally expect please tell me she said did papa in Rome go to see madame Catherine he told me he would if he had time perhaps he had not time papa likes a great deal of time he wished to speak about my education it isn't finished yet you know I don't know what they can do with me more but it appears it's far from finished papa told me one day he thought he would finish it himself for the last year or two at the convent the masters that teach the tall girls are so very dear but papa's not rich and I should be very sorry if he were to pay much money for me because I don't think I'm worth it I don't learn quickly enough and I have no memory for what I'm told yes especially when it's pleasant but not for what I learn in a book there was a young girl who was my best friend and they took her away from the convent in 2013 to make how do you say it in English to make a duh you don't say it in English I hope it isn't wrong I only mean they wish to keep the money to marry her I don't know whether it is for that that papa wishes to keep the money to marry me it cost so much to marry pansy went on with a sigh I might make that economy at any rate I'm too young to think about it yet and I don't care for any gentleman I mean for any but him if he were not my papa I should like to marry him I would rather be his daughter than the wife of some strange person I miss him very much but not so much as you might think for I've been so much away from him papa has always been principally for holidays I miss Madame Catherine almost more but you must not tell him that you shall not see him again I'm very sorry and he'll be sorry too of everyone who comes here I like you the best that's not a great compliment for there are not many people it was very kind of you to come today so far from your house for I'm really as yet only a child oh yes I've only the occupations of a child when did you give them up the occupations of a child I should like to know how old you are but I don't know whether it's right to ask at the convent they told us that we must never ask the age I don't like to do anything that's not expected it looks as if one had not been properly taught I myself I should never like to be taken by surprise I go to bed very early when the sun goes off that side I go into the garden Papa left strict orders that I was not to get scorched I always enjoy the view the mountains are so graceful in Rome from the convent we saw nothing but roofs and bell towers I practice three hours I don't play very well you play yourself I wish very much you play something for me Papa has the idea that I should hear good music Madame Merle has played for me several times that's what I like best about Madame Merle she has great facility I shall never have facility and I've no voice just a small sound like the squeak of a slate pencil making flourishes Isabelle gratified this respectful wish drew off her gloves and sat down to the piano while Pansy standing beside her watched her white hands move quickly over the keys when she stopped she kissed the child goodbye held her close, looked at her long be very good she said give pleasure to your father I think that's what I live for Pansy answered he has not much pleasure he's rather a sad man Isabelle listened to this assertion with an interest which she felt it almost a torment to be obliged to conceal it was her pride that obliged her and a certain sense of decency there were still other things in her head which she felt a strong impulse instantly checked to say to Pansy about her father there were things it would have given her pleasure to hear the child to make the child say but she no sooner became conscious of these things then her imagination was hushed with horror at the idea of taking advantage of the little girl it was of this she would have accused herself and of exhaling into that air where he might still have a subtle sense for it any breath of her charmed state she had come but she had stayed only an hour she rose quickly for the music stool even then however she lingered a moment still holding her small companion drawing the child's sweet slimness closer and looking down at her almost in envy she was obliged to confess it to herself it would have taken a passionate pleasure in talking of Gilbert Osmond to this innocent diminutive creature who was so near him but she said no other word she only kissed Pansy once again they went together through the vestibule to the door that opened onto the court and there her young hostess stopped looking rather wistfully beyond I may go no further I've promised papa not to pass this door you're right to obey him he'll never ask you anything unreasonable I shall always obey him but when will you come again not for a long time I'm afraid as soon as you can I hope I'm only a little girl said Pansy but I shall always expect you and the small figure stood in the high dark doorway watching Isabel cross the clear grey court and disappear into the brightness beyond the brig portone which gave a wider dazzle as it opened end of chapter 30 chapter 31 of the portrait of a lady volume 2 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to find out how to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Nikki Sullivan the portrait of a lady volume 2 by Henry James chapter 31 Isabel came back to Florence but only after several months an interval sufficiently replete with incident it is not however during this interval that we are closely concerned with her our attention is engaged again on a certain day in the late springtime shortly after her return to the plaza of christenty and a year from the date on this occasion in one of the smaller of the numerous rooms devoted by Mrs. Tuchette to social uses and there was that in her expression and attitude which would have suggested that she was expecting a visitor the tall window was open and those green shutters were partially drawn the bright air of the garden had come in through a broad interstice and filled the room with warmth and perfume a young woman stood near it for some time her hands clasped behind her she gazed abroad with the vagueness of unrest too troubled for attention she moved in a vain circle yet it could not be in her thought to catch a glimpse of her visitor before he should pass into the house since the entrance to the palace was not through the garden in which stillness and privacy always reigned she wished rather to forstall his arrival by a process of conjecture and to judge by the expression of her face this attempt gave her plenty to do grave she found herself and positively more weighted as by the experience of the lapse of the year she had spent in seeing the world she had ranged she would have said through space and surveyed much of mankind and was therefore now in her own eyes a very different person from the frivolous young woman from Albany who had begun to take the measure of Europe on the lawn at garden court a couple of years before she flattered herself that she had harvested wisdom and learned a great deal more of life than the light-minded creature had ever suspected if her thoughts just now had inclined themselves in retrospect instead of fluttering their wings nervously about the present they would have evoked a multitude of interesting pictures these pictures would have been both landscapes and figure-pieces the latter, however, would have been more numerous with several of the images that might have been projected on such a field we were already acquainted there would have been, for instance the conciliatory Lily our hero and sister and Edmund Ludlow's wife had worked to spend five months with her relative she had left her husband behind her but had brought her children to him Isabella now played with equal munificent and tenderness the part of maiden aunt Mr. Ludlow towards the last had been able to snatch a few weeks from his forensic triumphs and crossing the ocean with extreme rapidity had spent a month or two with the ladies in Paris before taking his wife home the little Ludlows had not yet from the American point of view reached the proper tourist age so that while her sister was with her Elizabeth had confined her movements to a narrow circle Lily and the babies had joined her in Switzerland in the month of July and they had spent a summer of fine weather in an alpine valley where the flowers were thick in the meadows and the shade of great chestnuts made a resting place for such upward wanderings as might be undertaken by ladies and children on warm afternoons they had afterwards reached the French capital which was worshipped and with costly ceremonies by Lily but thought of as noisily vacant by Isabelle who in these days made use of her memory of Rome as she might have done in a hot and crowded room of a vial of something pungent hidden in her handkerchief Mrs. Ludlow sacrificed, as I say to Paris yet had doubts and wonderments not allayed at that altar and after her husband had joined her found further chagrin in his failure to throw himself into these speculations they had all Isabelle for subject but Edmund Ludlow, as he had always done before declined to be surprised or distressed or mystified or elated at anything his sister-in-law might have done or failed to do Mrs. Ludlow's mental motions were sufficiently various at one moment she thought it would be so natural for that young woman to come home and take a house in New York at the Rosseters, for instance which had an elegant conservatory and was just around the corner from her own at another she couldn't conceal her surprise that the girl's not marrying some member of one of the great aristocracies on the whole, as I have said she had fallen from high communion with the probabilities she had taken more satisfaction in Isabelle's accession of fortune than if the money had been left to herself it had seemed to her to offer just the proper setting for her sister's slightly meager but scarcely less imminent figure Isabelle had developed less, however than Lily had thought likely developed to Lily's understanding being somehow mysteriously connected with morning calls and evening parties intellectually doubtless she had made immense strides but she appeared to have achieved few of the social conquests which Mrs. Ludlow has expected to admire the trophies. Lily's conception of such achievements was extremely vague but this is exactly what she had expected of Isabelle to give it form and body Isabelle could have done as well as she had done in New York Mrs. Ludlow appealed to her husband to know whether there was any privilege she enjoyed in Europe which society of that city might not offer her we know ourselves that Isabelle had made conquests whether inferior or not to those she might have affected in her native land it would be a fairer to decide and it is not altogether with a feeling of complacency that I again mentioned that she had not rendered these honorable victories public she had not told her sister the history of Lord Warburton nor had she given a hint of Mr. Osmond's state of mind and she had no better reason for her silence than that she didn't wish to speak it was more romantic to say nothing and drinking deep in secret in her romance she was as little disposed to ask poor Lily's advice than she would have been to close that rare volume forever but Lily knew nothing of these discriminations and could only pronounce her sister's career a strange anticlimax an impression confirmed by the fact that Isabelle's silence about Mr. Osmond for instance was in direct proportion to the frequency with which he occupied her thoughts as this happened very often it sometimes appeared to Mrs. Ludlow that she had lost her courage so uncanny a result of so exhilarating an incident as inheriting a fortune was of course perplexing to the cheerful Lily it added to her general sense that Isabelle was not at all like other people Isabelle's gaiety however superficially speaking at least exhibited itself rather more after her sister had gone home she could imagine something more poetic in Paris Paris was like smart, neat prose and her frequent correspondence with Madame Merrill did much to stimulate such fancies she had never had a keener sense of freedom of the absolute boldness and wantonness of liberty than when she had turned away from the platform at Euston Station on one of the latter days of November after the departure of the train which was to convey poor Lily her husband and her children to their ship at Liverpool had been good for her to have them with her she was very conscious of that she was very observant as we know of what was good for her and her effort to constantly find something that was good enough to profit by the present advantage to the latest moment she had made the journey from Paris with the uninvited travellers she would have accompanied them to Liverpool as well only Edmund Ludlow had asked her as a favour not to do so it made Lily so fidgety and she asked such impossible questions Isabel watched the train move away she kissed her hand to the elder of her small nephews a demonstrative child who leaned dangerously far out the window of the carriage and made a separation an occasion of violent hilarity and then she walked back into the foggy London street the world lay before her she could do whatever she chose there was something exciting in the feeling but for the present her choice was tolerably discreet she chose simply to walk back from Euston Square to her hotel the early dusk of a November afternoon had already closed in the street lamps in the thick brown air looked weak and red our young lady was unattended and Euston Square was a long way from Piccadilly but Isabel performed the journey of enjoying the enjoyment of its dangers and lost her way almost on purpose in order to get more sensations so that she was disappointed when an obliging policeman easily set her right again she was so fond of the spectacle of human life that she enjoyed even the aspect of gathering dusk in the London streets the moving crowds the hurrying cabs the lighted shops the flaring stalls that evening in her hotel she wrote to Madame Merle that she would start in a day or two for Rome she made her way down to Rome without touching at Florence having gone first to Venice and then proceeding southward by Ancana she accomplished this journey without other assistance than that of her servant for her natural protectors were not now on the ground Corfu and Mrs. Stackpole in the September previous had been recalled to America by a telegram from the interviewer this journal offered its brilliant correspondent a fresher field for her talents than the moldering cities of Europe and Henrietta was cheered on her way by a promise from Mr. Bantling that he would soon come over and see her Isabel wrote to Mrs. Cichette to apologize for not coming just then to Florence and that replied characteristically enough Apologies Mrs. Cichette intimated we have no more use than soap bubbles and she herself never dealt in such articles one either did the thing or one didn't and what one would have done belonged to a sphere of the irrelevant like the idea of a future life or the origin of things her letter was frank but it were a case with Mrs. Cichette it was not so frank as it seemed she easily forgave her niece for not stopping at Florence because she thought that it was a sign that there was nothing going on with Gilbert Osmond she watched a course to see whether Mr. Osmond would now go to Rome and took some comfort in learning that he was not guilty of an absence Isabel on her side had not been a fortnight in Rome before she proposed to Madame Merle that they should take a little pilgrimage to the east Madame Merle remarked that her friend was restless but she added that she herself had always been consumed with a desire to visit Athens and Constantinople the two ladies, accordingly embarked on this expedition and spent three months in Greece, in Turkey in Egypt Isabel found much to interest her in these countries though Madame Merle continued to remark that even among the most classic sites the scenes most calculated to suggest repose and reflection her restlessness prevailed Isabel traveled rapidly, eagerly, audaciously she was like a thirsty person draining cup after cup Madame Merle, for the present was a most efficient duana it was on Isabel's invitation she had come and she imparted all unnecessary dignity to the girl's uncounted condition she played her part with a sagacity that might have been expected of her she effaced herself she accepted the position of a companion and the consequences were profusely paid the situation however had no hardships and people who met this graceful pair on the travels would not have been able to tell you which was the patroness and which was the client to say that Madame Merle improved on acquaintance would misrepresent the impression she made upon Isabel who had thought her from the first a perfectly enlightened woman at the end of an intimacy of three months Isabel felt that she knew her better her character had revealed itself and Madame Merle had also at last redeemed her promise of relating her history from her own point of view a consummation the more desirable as Isabel had already heard it related from the point of view of others this history was so sad one insofar as it concerned the late M. Merle an adventurer in the lowest class who had taken advantage years before of her youth and of her inexperience in which those who knew her only now would find it difficult to believe it abounded so in startling and lamentable incidents that Isabel wondered the poor lady had kept so much of her freshness her interest in life into this freshness of Madame Merle she obtained a considerable insight she saw that it was after all a tolerably artificial bloom Isabel liked her as much as ever but there was a certain corner of the curtain that was never lifted it was as if Madame Merle remained after all a foreigner she believed then that at the bottom she had a very different morality of course the morality of civilized persons had always much in common but our young woman had a sense in her of values gone wrong or as they said in the shops marked down she considered with a presumption of youth that a morality differing from her own must be inferior to it and this conviction was an aid to detecting an occasional flash of cruelty and occasional lapse from candor in the conversation of a person who had raised delicate kindness to an art and whose pride was too high for the narrow ways of deception her conception of human motives might in certain lights have been acquired at the court of some kingdom of indecedence and there were several in her list of which our heroine had not even heard she had not heard of everything that was very plain and there were evidently things in the world of which it was not evintages to hear she had once or twice had a positive scare since it so affected her to have to exclaim of her friend heaven forgive me, she doesn't understand me absurd it may seem this discovery operated as a shock left to her with a vague dismay in which there was even an element of foreboding the dismay of course subsided in light of some sudden proof of Madame Merle's remarkable intelligence but it stood for a high watermark in the ebb and flow of confidence Madame Merle had once declared her belief that when a friendship ceases to grow it immediately begins to decline there being no point of equilibrium between liking more and liking less a stationary affection in other words was impossible it must move one way or the other however that might be the girl had in these days a thousand uses for her sense of the romantic which was more active than it had ever been I do not allude to the impulse it received as she gazed at the pyramids in the course of an excursion from Cairo whereas she stood among the broken columns at the Acropolis or fixed her eyes upon the point designated to her as the Strait of Salamis deep and memorable as these promotions had remained she came back by the last of March to Egypt and Greece and made another stay in Rome a few days after her arrival Gilbert Osman descended from Florence and remained three weeks during which the fact of her being with his old friend Madame Merle in whose house she had gone to lodge meant it virtually inevitable that he should see her every day when the last of April came she wrote to Mrs. Touche that she would now rejoice to accept an invitation given long before and went to pay a visit also Crescentini Madame Merle on this occasion remaining in Rome she found her aunt alone her cousin was still at Corfu Ralph however was expected in Florence from day to day and Isabel who had not seen him for upwards of a year was prepared to give him the most affectionate welcome End of Chapter 31 Recording by Nicky Sullivan Chicago Chapter 32 Portrait of a Lady Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Portrait of a Lady Volume 2 by Henry James Chapter 32 It was not of him nevertheless she was thinking while she stood at the window near which we found her a while ago and it was not of any of the matters I have rapidly sketched she was not turned to the past but to the immediate impending hour she had reason to expect to see and she was not fond of scenes she was not asking herself what she should say to her visitor this question had already been answered what he would say to her that was the interesting issue it could be nothing in the least soothing she had warrant for this and the conviction doubtless showed in the cloud on her brow for the rest however all clearness rained in her she had put away her mourning and she walked in no small shimmering splendor she only felt older ever so much and as if she were worth more for it like some curious peace in an antiquaries collection she was not at any rate left indefinitely to her apprehensions for a servant had lasted before her with a card on his tray let the gentleman come in she said and continued to gaze out of the window after the footman had retired it was only when she had heard the door closed behind the person who presently entered that she looked round Casper Goodwood stood there stood and received a moment from head to foot with which she rather withheld than offered a greeting whether his sense of maturity had kept pace with Isabelle's we shall perhaps presently ascertain let me say meanwhile that to her critical glance he showed nothing of the injury of time straight strong and hard there was nothing in his appearance that spoke positively either of youth or of age if he had neither innocence nor weakness so he had no practical philosophy his jaw showed the same voluntary cast as in earlier days but a certain crisis like the present had ended of course something grim he had the air of a man who had traveled hard he said nothing at first as if he had been out of breath this gave Isabelle time to make a reflection poor fellow what great things he's capable of and what a pity he should waste so dreadfully his splendid force what a pity too that one can't satisfy everybody it gave her time to do more to say at the end of a minute I can't tell you how I hoped you wouldn't come I have no doubt of that and he looked about him for a seat not only had he come but he meant to settle you must be very tired said Isabelle seating herself and generously as she thought to give him his opportunity no, I'm not tired at all did you ever know me to be tired? never, I wish I had when did you arrive? last night, very late in a kind of snail train they call the express these Italian trains go about at the rate of an American funeral that's in keeping, you must have felt as if you were coming to bury me and she forced a smile of encouragement to an easy view of their situation she had reasoned the matter well out making it perfectly clear that she broke no faith and falsified no contract but for all this she was afraid of her visitor she was ashamed of her fear but she was devoutly thankful there was nothing else to be ashamed of he looked at her with his stiff insistence an insistence in which there was such a want of tact especially when the dull dark beam in his eyes rested on her as a physical weight no, I didn't feel that she was dead I wish I could, he candidly declared I thank you immensely I'd rather think of you as dead than as married to another man that's very selfish of you she returned with the ardor of a real conviction if you're not happy yourself others have yet a right to be very likely it's selfish but I don't in the least mind you're saying so I don't mind anything you can say now I don't feel it what you think of would be mere pinpricks after what you've done I shall never feel anything I mean anything but that that I shall feel all my life Mr. Goodwood made these detached assertions with dry deliberateness in his hard slow American tone which flung no atmospheric color over propositions intrinsically crude the tone made Isabelle angry rather than touched her but her anger perhaps was fortunate in as much as it gave her a further reason for controlling herself it was under the pressure of this control that she became after a little irrelevant when did you leave New York he threw up his head as if he were calculating 17 days ago you must have traveled fast in spite of your slow trains I came as fast as I could I'd have come 5 days ago if I had been able it wouldn't have made any difference Mr. Goodwood she coldly smiled not to you, no but to me you gain nothing that I see that's for me to judge of course to me it seems that you only torment yourself and then to change the subject she asked him if he had seen Henrietta Stackpole he looked as if he had not come from Boston to Florence to talk of Henrietta Stackpole but he answered distinctly enough that this young lady had been with him just before he left America she came to see you Isabel then demanded yes she was in Boston and she called at my office it was the day that I had got your letter did you tell her Isabel asked with a certain anxiety oh no said Casper Goodwood simply I didn't want to do that she'll hear quickly enough she hears everything I shall write to her and then she'll write to me and scold me Casper however remained sternly grave I guess she'll come right out he said on purpose to scold me I don't know she seemed to think she had not seen Europe thoroughly I'm glad you tell me that Isabel said I must prepare for her Mr. Goodwood fixed his eyes for a moment on the floor then at last raising them does she know Mr. Osmond he inquired a little and she doesn't like him but of course I don't marry to please Henrietta she added it would have been better for poor Casper if she had tried a little more to gratify Ms. Stackpole but he didn't say so he only asked presently when her marriage would take place to which she made answer that she didn't know yet I can only say it will be soon I've told no one but yourself and one other person an old friend of Mr. Osmond is it a marriage your friends won't like he demanded I really haven't an idea as I say I don't marry for my friends he went on making no exclamation no comment only asking questions doing it quite without delicacy who and what then is Mr. Gilbert Osmond who and what nobody and nothing but a very good and very honorable man he's not in business said Isabel he's not rich he's not known for anything in particular she disliked Mr. Goodwood's questions but she said to herself that she owed it to him to satisfy him as far as possible the satisfaction poor Casper exhibited was however small he sat very upright gazing at her where does he come from where does he belong she had never been so little pleased with the way he said belong nowhere he has spent most of his life in Italy you said in your letter he was American hasn't he a native place yes but he has forgotten it he left it as a small boy has he never gone back why should he go back Isabel asked flushing all defensively he has no profession he might have gone back for his pleasure doesn't he like the United States he doesn't know them then he's very quiet very simple he contents himself with Italy with Italy and with you said Mr. Goodwood with gloomy plainness and no appearance of trying to make an epigram what has he ever done he added abruptly that I should marry him nothing at all Isabel replied while her patience helped itself by turning a little to hardness if he had done great things would you forgive me any better give me up Mr. Goodwood don't try to take an interest in him you can't I can't appreciate him that's what you mean and you don't mean in the least that he's a perfect non-annity you think he's grand you think he's great then no one else thinks so Isabel's color deepened she felt this really acute of her companion and it was certainly a proof of the aid that passion might render perceptions she had never taken for fine why do you always come back to what others think I can't discuss Mr. Osmond with you of course not said Casper reasonably and he sat there with his air of stiff helplessness as if not only this were true but there were nothing else that they might discuss you see how little you gain she accordingly broke out how little comfort or satisfaction I can give you I didn't expect you to give me much I don't understand then why you came I came because I wanted to see you once more even just as you are I appreciate that but if you had waited a while sooner or later we should have been sure to meet and our meeting would have been pleasanter for each of us than this waited till after you're married that's just what I didn't want to do you'll be different then not very I shall still be a great friend of yours you'll see the worst said Mr. Goodwood Grimley you're unaccommodating I can't promise to dislike you in order to help you resign yourself I shouldn't care if you did Isabel got up with a movement of repressed impatience and walked to the window where she remained a moment looking out when she turned round her visitor was still motionless in his place she came toward him again and stopped resting her hand on the back of the chair she had just quitted do you mean you came simply to look at me? that's better for you perhaps than for me I wish to hear the sound of your voice he said, you've heard it and you see it says nothing very sweet it gives me pleasure all the same and with this he got up she had felt pain and displeasure on receiving early that day the news he was in Florence and by her leave would come within an hour to see her though she had sent back word by his messenger that he might come when he would she had not been better pleased when she saw him his being there at all was so full of heavy implications it implied things she could never sent to, rights, reproaches remonstrance, rebuke the expectation of making her change her purpose, these things however if implied had not been expressed and now our young lady, strangely enough began to resent her visitor's remarkable self-control there was a dumb misery about him that irritated her there was a manly staying of his hand that made her heart beat faster she felt her agitation rising and she said to herself that she was angry in the way a woman is angry when she has been in the wrong she was not in the wrong she had fortunately not that bitterness to swallow but all the same she wished he would denounce her a little she had wished his visit would be short it had no purpose, no propriety yet, now that he seemed to be turning away she felt a sudden horror of his leaving her without uttering a word that would give her an opportunity to defend herself more than she had done in writing to him a month before and a few carefully chosen words to announce her engagement if she were not in the wrong however why should she desire to defend herself it was an excess of generosity on Isabelle's part she desired that Mr. Goodwood should be angry and if he had not, meanwhile, held himself hard it might have made him so to hear the tone in which she suddenly exclaimed as if she were accusing him of having accused her I've not deceived you I was perfectly free yes, I know that, said Casper I gave you full warning that I'd do as I chose you said that you'd probably never marry and you said it with such a manner that I pretty well believed it she considered this an instant no one can be more surprised than myself at my present intention you told me that if I heard that you were engaged I was not to believe it, Casper went on I heard it twenty days ago from yourself but I remembered what you had said I thought there might be some mistake and that's partly why I came if you wish me to repeat it by word of mouth, that's soon done there's no mistake I saw that as soon as I came into the room what good would it do you that I shouldn't marry, she asked with a certain fierceness I should like it better than this you're very selfish as I said before I know that, I'm selfish as iron even iron sometimes melts if you'll be reasonable I'll see you again don't you call me reasonable now I don't know what to say to you she answered with sudden humility I shan't trouble you for a long time the young men went on he made a step toward the door but he stopped another reason why I came was that I wanted to hear what you would say an explanation of having changed your mind her humbleness has suddenly deserted her an explanation, do you think I'm bound to explain he gave her one of his long dumb looks you were very positive I did believe it did I? do you think I could explain it if I would? no, I suppose not well he added I've done what I wished I've seen you how little you make of these terrible journeys she felt the poverty of her presently replying if you're afraid I'm knocked up in any such way as that you may be at your ease about it he turned away this time in earnest and no handshake was exchanged between them at the door he stopped with his hand on the knob I shall leave Florence to-morrow he said without a quaver I'm delighted to hear it she answered passionately five minutes after he had gone out she burst into tears end of chapter 32 chapter 33 of the portrait of a lady volume 2 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Belinda Brown of Indianapolis, Indiana the portrait of a lady volume 2 by Henry James chapter 33 her fit of weeping however was soon smothered and the signs of it had vanished when an hour later she broke the news to her aunt I use this expression because she had been sure Mrs. Touchette would not be pleased Isabelle had only waited to tell her till she had seen Mr. Goodwood she had an odd impression that it would not be honorable to make the fact public before she should have heard what Mr. Goodwood would say about it he had said rather less than she expected and she had a somewhat angry sense of having lost time but she would lose no more she waited till Mrs. Touchette came into the drawing room before the midday breakfast and then she began Aunt Lydia, I have something to tell you Mrs. Touchette gave a little jump and looked at her almost fiercely you needn't tell me I know what it is I don't know how you know the same way that I know when the windows open you're going to marry that man what man do you mean Isabelle inquired with great dignity Madam Murl's friend Mr. Osman I don't know why you call him Madam Murl's friend is that the principal thing he's known by if he's not her friend he ought to be after what she's done for him cried Mrs. Touchette I shouldn't have expected it of her I'm disappointed if you mean that Madam Murl has had anything to do with my engagement you're greatly mistaken Isabelle declared with a sort of ardent coldness you mean that your attractions were sufficient without the gentlemen's having had to be lashed up you're quite right they're immense your attractions and he would never have presumed to think of you if she hadn't put him up to it he has a very good opinion of himself but he was not a man to take trouble Madam Murl took the trouble for him he has taken a great deal for himself cried Isabelle with a voluntary laugh Mrs. Touchette gave a sharp nod I think he must after all to have made you like him so much I thought he even pleased you he did at one time and that's why I'm angry with him be angry with me not with him said the girl oh I'm always angry with you that's no satisfaction was it for this that you refuse Lord Warburton please don't go back to that why shouldn't I like Mr. Osman since others have done so others at their wildest moments never wanted to marry him there's nothing of him Mrs. Touchette explained then he can't hurt me said Isabelle do you think you're going to be happy no one's happy in such doings you should know in a fashion then what does one marry for what you will marry for heaven only knows people usually marry as they go into partnership to set up a house but in your partnership you'll bring everything is it that Mr. Osman isn't rich is that what you're talking about Isabelle asked he has no money he has no name he has no importance to say it I think they're very precious many other people think the same and they show it but they give some other reason Isabelle hesitated a little I think I value everything that's valuable I care very much for money and that's why I wish Mr. Osman to have a little give it to him then but marry someone else his name's good enough for me it's a very pretty name have I such a fine one myself all the more reason you should improve on it there are only a dozen American names do you marry him out of charity it was my duty to tell you Aunt Lydia but I don't think it's my duty to explain to you even if it were I shouldn't be able so please don't remonstrate in talking about it you have me at a disadvantage I can't talk about it I don't remonstrate I simply answer you I must give some sign of intelligence I saw it coming and I said nothing I never meddle you never do and I'm greatly obliged to you you've been very considerate it was not considerate it was convenient said Mrs. Touche but I shall talk to Madam Merle I don't see why you keep bringing her in she has been a very good friend to me possibly but she has been a poor one to me what has she done to you she has deceived me she had as good as promise to prevent your engagement she couldn't have prevented it she can do anything that's what I've always liked her for I knew she could play any part but I understood that she played them one by one I didn't understand that she would play two at the same time I don't know what part she may have played to you as the bell said that's between yourselves to me she's been honest and kind and devoted devoted of course she wished you to marry her candidate she told me that she was watching you only in order to interpose she said that to please you the girl answered conscious however of the inadequacy of the explanation to please me by deceiving me she knows me better am I pleased today I don't think you're ever much pleased as the bell was obliged to reply if Madame Merle knew you would learn the truth what had she to gain by insincerity she gained time as you see while I waited for her to interfere you were marching away and she was really beating the drum that's very well but by your own admission you saw I was marching and even if she had given the alarm you wouldn't have tried to stop me no but someone else would whom do you mean Isabelle asked looking very hard at her aunt Mrs. Tuchette's little bright eyes active as they usually were sustained her gaze rather than returned it would you have listened to Ralph not if he had abused Mr. Osman Ralph doesn't abuse people you know that perfectly he cares very much for you I know he does said Isabelle and I shall feel the value of it now for he knows that whatever I do I do with reason he never believed you would do this I told him you were capable of it and he argued the other way he did it for the sake of argument the girl smiled you don't accuse him of having deceived you why should you accuse Madame Merle he never pretended he'd prevent it I'm glad of that daily I wish very much she presently added that when he comes you tell him first of my engagement of course I'll mention it said Mrs. Tuchette I shall say nothing more to you about it but I give you notice I shall talk to others that says you please I only meant that it's better the announcement should come from you than from me I quite agree with you it's much more proper and on this the aunt and the niece went to breakfast Tuchette as good as her word made no allusion to Gilbert Osmond after an interval of silence however she asked her companion from whom she had received a visit an hour before from an old friend an American gentleman Isabelle said with a color in her cheek an American gentleman of course it's only an American gentleman who calls it ten o'clock in the morning it was half past ten he was in a great hurry he went away this evening couldn't he have come yesterday at the usual time he only arrived last night he spends the twenty-four hours in Florence, Mrs. Tuchette cried he's an American gentleman truly he is indeed said Isabelle thinking with perverse admiration of what Casper Goodwood had done for her two days afterward Ralph arrived but though Isabelle was sure that Mrs. Tuchette had lost no time and imparting to him the great fact he showed at first no open knowledge of it their prompted talk was naturally of his health Isabelle had many questions to ask about Corfu she had been shocked by his appearance when he came into the room she had forgotten how ill he looked in spite of Corfu he looked very ill today and she wondered if he were really worse or if she were simply accustomed to living with an invalid poor Ralph made no nearer approach to conventional beauty as he advanced in life and the now apparent complete loss of his health had done little to mitigate the natural oddity of his person blighted and battered but still responsive and still ironic his face was like a lighted lantern patched with paper and unsteadily held his thin whiskers languished upon a lean cheek the prominent curve of his nose defined itself more sharply lean he was altogether lean and long and loose jointed an accidental cohesion of relaxed angles his brown velvet jacket had become perennial his hands had fixed themselves in his pockets he shambled and stumbled and shuffled in a manner that denoted great physical helplessness it was perhaps this whimsical gate that helped to mark his character more than ever as that of the humorous invalid the invalid for whom even his own disabilities are part of the general joke they might well indeed with Ralph have been the chief cause of the want of seriousness marking his view of a world in which the reason for his own continued presence was past finding out Isabelle had grown fond of his ugliness his awkwardness had become dear to her he had been beaten by association they struck her as the very terms on which it had been given him to be charming he was so charming that her sense of his being ill had hitherto had a sort of comfort in it the state of his health had seemed not a limitation but a kind of intellectual advantage it absolved him from all professional and official emotions and left him the luxury of being exclusively personal he so resulting was delightful he had remained proof against the staleness of disease he had had to consent to be deplorably ill yet had somehow escaped being formally sick such had been the girls' impression of her cousin and when she had pitied him it was only on reflection as she reflected a good deal she had allowed him a certain amount of compassion but she always had a dread of wasting that essence of this article worth more to the giver than to anyone else now however it took no great sensibility to feel that poor Ralph's tenure of life was less elastic than it should be he was a bright free generous spirit he had all the illumination of wisdom and none of its pedantry and yet he was distressfully dying Isabelle noted afresh that life for some people and she felt a delicate glow of shame as she thought how easy it now promised to become for herself she was prepared to learn that Ralph was not pleased with her engagement but she was not prepared in spite of her affection for him to let this fact spoil the situation she was not even prepared or so she thought to resent his want of sympathy for it would be his privilege it would be indeed his natural mind to find fault with any step she might take toward marriage one's cousin always pretended to hate one's husband that was traditional classical it was a part of one's cousin always pretending to adore one Ralph was nothing if not critical and though she would certainly other things being equal have been as glad to marry to please him as to please anyone it would be absurd to regard as important that her choice should square with his views what were his views after all he had pretended to believe she had better have married Lord Warburton but this was only because she had refused that excellent man if she had accepted him Ralph would have certainly have taken another tone he always took the opposite you could criticize any marriage it was the essence of a marriage to be open to criticism how well she herself should she only give her mind to it to criticize this union of her own she had other employment however and Ralph was welcome to relieve her of the care Isabelle was prepared to be most patient and most indulgent he must have seen that and this made it the more odd he should say nothing after three days had a laugh without his speaking our young woman worried of waiting dislike it as he would he might at least go through the form more about poor Ralph than his cousin may easily believe that during the hours that filed his arrival at the Palazzo Crescentini he had privately gone through many forms his mother had literally greeted him with the great news which had been even more sensibly chilling than Mrs. Tushat's maternal kiss Ralph was shocked and humiliated his calculations had been false and the person in the world in whom he was most interested was lost he drifted about the house like a rudderless vessel in a rocky stream or sat in the garden of the palace on a great cane chair his long legs extended his head thrown back and his hat pulled over his eyes he felt cold about the heart he had never liked anything less what could he do what could he say if the girl were irreclaimable could he pretend to like it to attempt to reclaim her was permissible only if the attempt should succeed to try to persuade her of anything sorted or sinister in the man to whose deep art she had succumbed would be decently discreet only in the event of her being persuaded otherwise he should simply have damned himself it cost him an equal effort to speak his thought and to disemble he could neither assent with sincerity nor protest with hope meanwhile he knew or rather he supposed that the affianced pair were daily renewing their mutual vows osmond at this moment showed himself very little at palazzo crescentini but isabel met him every day elsewhere as she was free to do after their engagement had been made public she had taken a carriage by the month so as not to be indebted to her aunt for the means of pursuing a course of which mrs. tuchette disapproved and she drove in the morning to the scene this suburban wilderness during the early hours was void of all intruders and our young lady joined by her lover in its quietest part strolled with him a while through the gray italian shade and listened to the nightingales end of chapter 33 reading by belinda brown of indianapolis indiana