view, she was immediately addressed by a pair of gentlemen, high personages in the Roman world,who met her as if they had been looking for her. While she talked with them she found herselfregretting she had moved; it looked a little like running away--all the more as Lord Warburtondidn't follow her. She was glad of this, however, and at any rate she was satisfied. She was so wellsatisfied that when, in passing back into the ball-room, she found Edward Rosier still planted in thedoorway, she stopped and spoke to him again. "You did right not to go away. I've some comfortfor you.""I need it," the young man softly wailed, "when I see you so awfully thick with him!""Don't speak of him; I'll do what I can for you. I'm afraid it won't be much, but what I can I'll do."He looked at her with gloomy obliqueness. "What has suddenly brought you round?""The sense that you are an inconvenience in doorways!" she answered, smiling as she passed him.Half an hour later she took leave, with Pansy, and at the foot of the staircase the two ladies, withmany other departing guests, waited a while for their carriage. Just as it approached LordWarburton came out of the house and assisted them to reach their vehicle. He stood a moment atthe door, asking Pansy if she had amused herself; and she, having answered him, fell back with alittle air of fatigue. Then Isabel, at the window, detaining him by a movement of her finger,murmured gently: "Don't forget to send your letter to her father!"CHAPTER XLIVThe Countess Gemini was often extremely bored--bored, in her own phrase, to extinction. She hadnot been extinguished, however, and she struggled bravely enough with her destiny, which hadbeen to marry an unaccommodating Florentine who insisted upon living in his native town, wherehe enjoyed such consideration as might attach to a gentleman whose talent for losing at cards hadnot the merit of being incidental to an obliging disposition. The Count Gemini was not liked evenby those who won from him; and he bore a name which, having a measurable value in Florence,was, like the local coin of the old Italian states, without currency in other parts of the peninsula. InRome he was simply a very dull Florentine, and it is not remarkable that he should not have caredto pay frequent visits to a place where, to carry it off, his dulness needed more explanation thanwas convenient. The Countess lived with her eyes upon Rome, and it was the constant grievance ofher life that she had not an habitation there. She was ashamed to say how seldom she had beenallowed to visit that city; it scarcely made the matter better that there were other members of theFlorentine nobility who never had been there at all. She went whenever she could; that was all shecould say. Or rather not all, but all she said she could say. In fact she had much more to say aboutit, and had often set forth the reasons why she hated Florence and wished to end her days in theshadow of Saint Peter's. They are reasons, however, that do not closely concern us, and wereusually summed up in the declaration that Rome, in short, was the Eternal City and that Florencewas simply a pretty little place like any other. The Countess apparently needed to connect the ideaof eternity with her amusements. She was convinced that society was infinitely more interesting inRome, where you met celebrities all winter at evening parties. At Florence there were nocelebrities; none at least that one had heard of. Since her brother's marriage her impatience had第 297 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网greatly increased; she was so sure his wife had a more brilliant life than herself. She was not sointellectual as Isabel, but she was intellectual enough to do justice to Rome--not to the ruins andthe catacombs, not even perhaps to the monuments and museums, the church ceremonies and thescenery; but certainly to all the rest. She heard a great deal about her sister-in-law and knewperfectly that Isabel was having a beautiful time. She had indeed seen it for herself on the onlyoccasion on which she had enjoyed the hospitality of Palazzo Roccanera. She had spent a weekthere during the first winter of her brother's marriage, but she had not been encouraged to renewthis satisfaction. Osmond didn't want her--that she was perfectly aware of; but she would havegone all the same, for after all she didn't care two straws about Osmond. It was her husband whowouldn't let her, and the money question was always a trouble. Isabel had been very nice; theCountess, who had liked her sister-in-law from the first, had not been blinded by envy to Isabel'spersonal merits. She had always observed that she got on better with clever women than with sillyones like herself; the silly ones could never understand her wisdom, whereas the clever ones--thereally clever ones--always understood her silliness. It appeared to her that, different as they were inappearance and general style, Isabel and she had somewhere a patch of common ground that theywould set their feet upon at last. It was not very large, but it was firm, and they should both knowit when once they had really touched it. And then she lived, with Mrs. Osmond, under theinfluence of a pleasant surprise; she was constantly expecting that Isabel would "look down" onher, and she as constantly saw this operation postponed. She asked herself when it would begin,like fire-works, or Lent, or the opera season; not that she cared much, but she wondered what keptit in abeyance. Her sister-in-law regarded her with none but level glances and expressed for thepoor Countess as little contempt as admiration. In reality Isabel would as soon have thought ofdespising her as of passing a moral judgement on a grasshopper. She was not indifferent to herhusband's sister, however; she was rather a little afraid of her. She wondered at her; she thoughther very extraordinary. The Countess seemed to her to have no soul; she was like a bright rareshell, with a polished surface and a remarkably pink lip, in which something would rattle whenyou shook it. This rattle was apparently the Countess's spiritual principle, a little loose nut thattumbled about inside of her. She was too odd for disdain, too anomalous for comparisons. Isabelwould have invited her again (there was no question of inviting the Count); but Osmond, after hismarriage, had not scrupled to say frankly that Amy was a fool of the worst species --a fool whosefolly had the irrepressibility of genius. He said at another time that she had no heart; and he addedin a moment that she had given it all away--in small pieces, like a frosted wedding-cake. The factof not having been asked was of course another obstacle to the Countess's going again to Rome;but at the period with which this history has now to deal she was in receipt of an invitation tospend several weeks at Palazzo Roccanera. The proposal had come from Osmond himself, whowrote to his sister that she must be prepared to be very quiet. Whether or no she found in thisphrase all the meaning he had put into it I am unable to say; but she accepted the invitation on anyterms. She was curious, moreover; for one of the impressions of her former visit had been that herbrother had found his match. Before the marriage she had been sorry for Isabel, so sorry as to havehad serious thoughts--if any of the Countess's thoughts were serious--of putting her on her guard.But she had let that pass, and after a little she was reassured. Osmond was as lofty as ever, but hiswife would not be an easy victim. The Countess was not very exact at measurements, but it seemedto her that if Isabel should draw herself up she would be the taller spirit of the two. What she第 298 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网wanted to learn now was whether Isabel had drawn herself up; it would give her immense pleasureto see Osmond overtopped.Several days before she was to start for Rome a servant brought her the card of a visitor--a cardwith the simple superscription "Henrietta C. Stackpole." The Countess pressed her finger-tips toher forehead; she didn't remember to have known any such Henrietta as that. The servant thenremarked that the lady had requested him to say that if the Countess should not recognise her nameshe would know her well enough on seeing her. By the time she appeared before her visitor shehad in fact reminded herself that there was once a literary lady at Mrs. Touchett's; the only womanof letters she had ever encountered--that is the only modern one, since she was the daughter of adefunct poetess. She recognised Miss Stackpole immediately, the more so that Miss Stackpoleseemed perfectly unchanged; and the Countess, who was thoroughly good-natured, thought itrather fine to be called on by a person of that sort of distinction. She wondered if Miss Stackpolehad come on account of her mother--whether she had heard of the American Corinne. Her motherwas not at all like Isabel's friend; the Countess could see at a glance that this lady was much morecontemporary; and she received an impression of the improvements that were taking place--chieflyin distant countries--in the character (the professional character) of literary ladies. Her mother hadbeen used to wear a Roman scarf thrown over a pair of shoulders timorously bared of their tightblack velvet (oh the old clothes!) and a gold laurel-wreath set upon a multitude of glossy ringlets.She had spoken softly and vaguely, with the accent of her "Creole" ancestors, as she alwaysconfessed; she sighed a great deal and was not at all enterprising. But Henrietta, the Countesscould see, was always closely buttoned and compactly braided; there was something brisk andbusiness-like in her appearance; her manner was almost conscientiously familiar. It was asimpossible to imagine her ever vaguely sighing as to imagine a letter posted without its address.The Countess could not but feel that the correspondent of the Interviewer was much more in themovement than the American Corinne. She explained that she had called on the Countess becauseshe was the only person she knew in Florence, and that when she visited a foreign city she liked tosee something more than superficial travellers. She knew Mrs. Touchett, but Mrs. Touchett was inAmerica, and even if she had been in Florence Henrietta would not have put herself out for her,since Mrs. Touchett was not one of her admirations."Do you mean by that that I am?" the Countess graciously asked."Well, I like you better than I do her," said Miss Stackpole. "I seem to remember that when I sawyou before you were very interesting. I don't know whether it was an accident or whether it's yourusual style. At any rate I was a good deal struck with what you said. I made use of it afterwards inprint.""Dear me!" cried the Countess, staring and half-alarmed; "I had no idea I ever said anythingremarkable! I wish I had known it at the time.""It was about the position of woman in this city," Miss Stackpole remarked. "You threw a gooddeal of light upon it.""The position of woman's very uncomfortable. Is that what you mean? And you wrote it down andpublished it?" the Countess went on. "Ah, do let me see it!"第 299 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"I'll write to them to send you the paper if you like," Henrietta said. "I didn't mention your name; Ionly said a lady of high rank. And then I quoted your views."The Countess threw herself hastily backward, tossing up her clasped hands. "Do you know I'mrather sorry you didn't mention my name? I should have rather liked to see my name in the papers.I forget what my views were; I have so many! But I'm not ashamed of them. I'm not at all like mybrother--I suppose you know my brother? He thinks it a kind of scandal to be put in the papers; ifyou were to quote him he'd never forgive you.""He needn't be afraid; I shall never refer to him," said Miss Stackpole with bland dryness. "That'sanother reason," she added, "why I wanted to come to see you. You know Mr. Osmond marriedmy dearest friend.""Ah, yes; you were a friend of Isabel's. I was trying to think what I knew about you.""I'm quite willing to be known by that," Henrietta declared. "But that isn't what your brother likesto know me by. He has tried to break up my relations with Isabel.""Don't permit it," said the Countess."That's what I want to talk about. I'm going to Rome.""So am I!" the Countess cried. "We'll go together.""With great pleasure. And when I write about my journey I'll mention you by name as mycompanion."The Countess sprang from her chair and came and sat on the sofa beside her visitor. "Ah, you mustsend me the paper! My husband won't like it, but he need never see it. Besides, he doesn't knowhow to read."Henrietta's large eyes became immense. "Doesn't know how to read? May I put that into myletter?""Into your letter?""In the Interviewer. That's my paper.""Oh yes, if you like; with his name. Are you going to stay with Isabel?"Henrietta held up her head, gazing a little in silence at her hostess. "She has not asked me. I wroteto her I was coming, and she answered that she would engage a room for me at a pension. Shegave no reason."The Countess listened with extreme interest. "The reason's Osmond," she pregnantly remarked."Isabel ought to make a stand," said Miss Stackpole. "I'm afraid she has changed a great deal. Itold her she would.""I'm sorry to hear it; I hoped she would have her own way. Why doesn't my brother like you?" theCountess ingenuously added."I don't know and I don't care. He's perfectly welcome not to like me; I don't want every one to likeme; I should think less of myself if some people did. A journalist can't hope to do much goodunless he gets a good deal hated; that's the way he knows how his work goes on. And it's just thesame for a lady. But I didn't expect it of Isabel."第 300 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"Do you mean that she hates you?" the Countess enquired."I don't know; I want to see. That's what I'm going to Rome for.""Dear me, what a tiresome errand!" the Countess exclaimed."She doesn't write to me in the same way; it's easy to see there's a difference. If you knowanything," Miss Stackpole went on, "I should like to hear it beforehand, so as to decide on the lineI shall take."The Countess thrust out her under lip and gave a gradual shrug. "I know very little; I see and hearvery little of Osmond. He doesn't like me any better than he appears to like you.""Yet you're not a lady correspondent," said Henrietta pensively."Oh, he has plenty of reasons. Nevertheless they've invited me-- I'm to stay in the house!" And theCountess smiled almost fiercely; her exultation, for the moment, took little account of MissStackpole's disappointment.This lady, however, regarded it very placidly. "I shouldn't have gone if she HAD asked me. That isI think I shouldn't; and I'm glad I hadn't to make up my mind. It would have been a very difficultquestion. I shouldn't have liked to turn away from her, and yet I shouldn't have been happy underher roof. A pension will suit me very well. But that's not all.""Rome's very good just now," said the Countess; "there are all sorts of brilliant people. Did youever hear of Lord Warburton?""Hear of him? I know him very well. Do you consider him very brilliant?" Henrietta enquired."I don't know him, but I'm told he's extremely grand seigneur. He's making love to Isabel.""Making love to her?""So I'm told; I don't know the details," said the Countess lightly. "But Isabel's pretty safe."Henrietta gazed earnestly at her companion; for a moment she said nothing. "When do you go toRome?" she enquired abruptly."Not for a week, I'm afraid.""I shall go to-morrow," Henrietta said. "I think I had better not wait.""Dear me, I'm sorry; I'm having some dresses made. I'm told Isabel receives immensely. But I shallsee you there; I shall call on you at your pension." Henrietta sat still--she was lost in thought; andsuddenly the Countess cried: "Ah, but if you don't go with me you can't describe our journey!"Miss Stackpole seemed unmoved by this consideration; she was thinking of something else andpresently expressed it. "I'm not sure that I understand you about Lord Warburton.""Understand me? I mean he's very nice, that's all.""Do you consider it nice to make love to married women?" Henrietta enquired with unprecedenteddistinctness.The Countess stared, and then with a little violent laugh: "It's certain all the nice men do it. Getmarried and you'll see!" she added.第 301 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"That idea would be enough to prevent me," said Miss Stackpole. "I should want my own husband;I shouldn't want any one else's. Do you mean that Isabel's guilty--guilty--?" And she paused a little,choosing her expression."Do I mean she's guilty? Oh dear no, not yet, I hope. I only mean that Osmond's very tiresome andthat Lord Warburton, as I hear, is a great deal at the house. I'm afraid you're scandalised.""No, I'm just anxious," Henrietta said."Ah, you're not very complimentary to Isabel! You should have more confidence. I'll tell you," theCountess added quickly: "if it will be a comfort to you I engage to draw him off."Miss Stackpole answered at first only with the deeper solemnity of her gaze. "You don'tunderstand me," she said after a while. "I haven't the idea you seem to suppose. I'm not afraid forIsabel--in that way. I'm only afraid she's unhappy--that's what I want to get at."The Countess gave a dozen turns of the head; she looked impatient and sarcastic. "That may verywell be; for my part I should like to know whether Osmond is." Miss Stackpole had begun a littleto bore her."If she's really changed that must be at the bottom of it," Henrietta went on."You'll see; she'll tell you," said the Countess."Ah, she may NOT tell me--that's what I'm afraid of!""Well, if Osmond isn't amusing himself--in his own old way--I flatter myself I shall discover it,"the Countess rejoined."I don't care for that," said Henrietta."I do immensely! If Isabel's unhappy I'm very sorry for her, but I can't help it. I might tell hersomething that would make her worse, but I can't tell her anything that would console her. Whatdid she go and marry him for? If she had listened to me she'd have got rid of him. I'll forgive her,however, if I find she has made things hot for him! If she has simply allowed him to trample uponher I don't know that I shall even pity her. But I don't think that's very likely. I count upon findingthat if she's miserable she has at least made HIM so."Henrietta got up; these seemed to her, naturally, very dreadful expectations. She honestly believedshe had no desire to see Mr. Osmond unhappy; and indeed he could not be for her the subject of aflight of fancy. She was on the whole rather disappointed in the Countess, whose mind moved in anarrower circle than she had imagined, though with a capacity for coarseness even there. "It will bebetter if they love each other," she said for edification."They can't. He can't love any one.""I presumed that was the case. But it only aggravates my fear for Isabel. I shall positively start tomorrow.""Isabel certainly has devotees," said the Countess, smiling very vividly. "I declare I don't pity her.""It may be I can't assist her," Miss Stackpole pursued, as if it were well not to have illusions."You can have wanted to, at any rate; that's something. I believe that's what you came fromAmerica for," the Countess suddenly added.第 302 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"Yes, I wanted to look after her," Henrietta said serenely.Her hostess stood there smiling at her with small bright eyes and an eager-looking nose; withcheeks into each of which a flush had come. "Ah, that's very pretty c'est bien gentil! Isn't it whatthey call friendship?""I don't know what they call it. I thought I had better come.""She's very happy--she's very fortunate," the Countess went on. "She has others besides." And thenshe broke out passionately. "She's more fortunate than I! I'm as unhappy as she--I've a very badhusband; he's a great deal worse than Osmond. And I've no friends. I thought I had, but they'regone. No one, man or woman, would do for me what you've done for her."Henrietta was touched; there was nature in this bitter effusion. She gazed at her companion amoment, and then: "Look here, Countess, I'll do anything for you that you like. I'll wait over andtravel with you.""Never mind," the Countess answered with a quick change of tone: "only describe me in thenewspaper!"Henrietta, before leaving her, however, was obliged to make her understand that she could give nofictitious representation of her journey to Rome. Miss Stackpole was a strictly veracious reporter.On quitting her she took the way to the Lung' Arno, the sunny quay beside the yellow river wherethe bright-faced inns familiar to tourists stand all in a row. She had learned her way before thisthrough the streets of Florence (she was very quick in such matters), and was therefore able to turnwith great decision of step out of the little square which forms the approach to the bridge of theHoly Trinity. She proceeded to the left, toward the Ponte Vecchio, and stopped in front of one ofthe hotels which overlook that delightful structure. Here she drew forth a small pocket-book, tookfrom it a card and a pencil and, after meditating a moment, wrote a few words. It is our privilege tolook over her shoulder, and if we exercise it we may read the brief query: "Could I see you thisevening for a few moments on a very important matter?" Henrietta added that she should start onthe morrow for Rome. Armed with this little document she approached the porter, who now hadtaken up his station in the doorway, and asked if Mr. Goodwood were at home. The porter replied,as porters always reply, that he had gone out about twenty minutes before; whereupon Henriettapresented her card and begged it might be handed him on his return. She left the inn and pursuedher course along the quay to the severe portico of the Uffizi, through which she presently reachedthe entrance of the famous gallery of paintings. Making her way in, she ascended the high staircasewhich leads to the upper chambers. The long corridor, glazed on one side and decorated withantique busts, which gives admission to these apartments, presented an empty vista in which thebright winter light twinkled upon the marble floor. The gallery is very cold and during themidwinter weeks but scantily visited. Miss Stackpole may appear more ardent in her quest of