贵妇人画像The Portrait of a Lady-41

"All the same, you know, be kind to him."She lifted her shoulders and eyebrows and stood looking at her friend. "I don't understand yourcontradictions! Decidedly I shan't be kind to him, for it will be a false kindness. I want to see hermarried to Lord Warburton.""You had better wait till he asks her.""If what you say's true, he'll ask her. Especially," said Madame Merle in a moment, "if you makehim.""If I make him?""It's quite in your power. You've great influence with him."Isabel frowned a little. "Where did you learn that?"第 275 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"Mrs. Touchett told me. Not you--never!" said Madame Merle, smiling."I certainly never told you anything of the sort.""You MIGHT have done so--so far as opportunity went--when we were by way of beingconfidential with each other. But you really told me very little; I've often thought so since."Isabel had thought so too, and sometimes with a certain satisfaction. But she didn't admit it now-perhaps because she wished not to appear to exult in it. "You seem to have had an excellentinformant in my aunt," she simply returned."She let me know you had declined an offer of marriage from Lord Warburton, because she wasgreatly vexed and was full of the subject. Of course I think you've done better in doing as you did.But if you wouldn't marry Lord Warburton yourself, make him the reparation of helping him tomarry some one else."Isabel listened to this with a face that persisted in not reflecting the bright expressiveness ofMadame Merle's. But in a moment she said, reasonably and gently enough: "I should be very gladindeed if, as regards Pansy, it could be arranged." Upon which her companion, who seemed toregard this as a speech of good omen, embraced her more tenderly than might have been expectedand triumphantly withdrew.CHAPTER XLIOsmond touched on this matter that evening for the first time; coming very late into the drawing-room, where she was sitting alone. They had spent the evening at home, and Pansy had gone tobed; he himself had been sitting since dinner in a small apartment in which he had arranged hisbooks and which he called his study. At ten o'clock Lord Warburton had come in, as he always didwhen he knew from Isabel that she was to be at home; he was going somewhere else and he sat forhalf an hour. Isabel, after asking him for news of Ralph, said very little to him, on purpose; shewished him to talk with her stepdaughter. She pretended to read; she even went after a little to thepiano; she asked herself if she mightn't leave the room. She had come little by little to think well ofthe idea of Pansy's becoming the wife of the master of beautiful Lockleigh, though at first it hadnot presented itself in a manner to excite her enthusiasm. Madame Merle, that afternoon, hadapplied the match to an accumulation of inflammable material. When Isabel was unhappy shealways looked about her--partly from impulse and partly by theory--for some form of positiveexertion. She could never rid herself of the sense that unhappiness was a state of disease--ofsuffering as opposed to doing. To "do"--it hardly mattered what--would therefore be an escape,perhaps in some degree a remedy. Besides, she wished to convince herself that she had doneeverything possible to content her husband; she was determined not to be haunted by visions of hiswife's limpness under appeal. It would please him greatly to see Pansy married to an Englishnobleman, and justly please him, since this nobleman was so sound a character. It seemed to Isabelthat if she could make it her duty to bring about such an event she should play the part of a goodwife. She wanted to be that; she wanted to be able to believe sincerely, and with proof of it, thatshe had been that. Then such an undertaking had other recommendations. It would occupy her, andshe desired occupation. It would even amuse her, and if she could really amuse herself she perhapsmight be saved. Lastly, it would be a service to Lord Warburton, who evidently pleased himself第 276 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网greatly with the charming girl. It was a little "weird" he should--being what he was; but there wasno accounting for such impressions. Pansy might captivate any one--any one at least but LordWarburton. Isabel would have thought her too small, too slight, perhaps even too artificial for that.There was always a little of the doll about her, and that was not what he had been looking for. Still,who could say what men ever were looking for? They looked for what they found; they knew whatpleased them only when they saw it. No theory was valid in such matters, and nothing was moreunaccountable or more natural than anything else. If he had cared for HER it might seem odd heshould care for Pansy, who was so different; but he had not cared for her so much as he hadsupposed. Or if he had, he had completely got over it, and it was natural that, as that affair hadfailed, he should think something of quite another sort might succeed. Enthusiasm, as I say, hadnot come at first to Isabel, but it came to-day and made her feel almost happy. It was astonishingwhat happiness she could still find in the idea of procuring a pleasure for her husband. It was apity, however, that Edward Rosier had crossed their path!At this reflection the light that had suddenly gleamed upon that path lost something of itsbrightness. Isabel was unfortunately as sure that Pansy thought Mr. Rosier the nicest of all theyoung men--as sure as if she had held an interview with her on the subject. It was very tiresomeshe should be so sure, when she had carefully abstained from informing herself; almost as tiresomeas that poor Mr. Rosier should have taken it into his own head. He was certainly very inferior toLord Warburton. It was not the difference in fortune so much as the difference in the men; theyoung American was really so light a weight. He was much more of the type of the useless finegentleman than the English nobleman. It was true that there was no particular reason why Pansyshould marry a statesman; still, if a statesman admired her, that was his affair, and she would makea perfect little pearl of a peeress.It may seem to the reader that Mrs. Osmond had grown of a sudden strangely cynical, for sheended by saying to herself that this difficulty could probably be arranged. An impediment that wasembodied in poor Rosier could not anyhow present itself as a dangerous one; there were alwaysmeans of levelling secondary obstacles. Isabel was perfectly aware that she had not taken themeasure of Pansy's tenacity, which might prove to be inconveniently great; but she inclined to seeher as rather letting go, under suggestion, than as clutching under deprecation --since she hadcertainly the faculty of assent developed in a very much higher degree than that of protest. Shewould cling, yes, she would cling; but it really mattered to her very little what she clung to. LordWarburton would do as well as Mr. Rosier --especially as she seemed quite to like him; she hadexpressed this sentiment to Isabel without a single reservation; she had said she thought hisconversation most interesting--he had told her all about India. His manner to Pansy had been of therightest and easiest--Isabel noticed that for herself, as she also observed that he talked to her not inthe least in a patronising way, reminding himself of her youth and simplicity, but quite as if sheunderstood his subjects with that sufficiency with which she followed those of the fashionableoperas. This went far enough for attention to the music and the barytone. He was careful only to bekind--he was as kind as he had been to another fluttered young chit at Gardencourt. A girl mightwell be touched by that; she remembered how she herself had been touched, and said to herselfthat if she had been as simple as Pansy the impression would have been deeper still. She had notbeen simple when she refused him; that operation had been as complicated as, later, her acceptance第 277 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网of Osmond had been. Pansy, however, in spite of HER simplicity, really did understand, and wasglad that Lord Warburton should talk to her, not about her partners and bouquets, but about thestate of Italy, the condition of the peasantry, the famous grist-tax, the pellagra, his impressions ofRoman society. She looked at him, as she drew her needle through her tapestry, with sweetsubmissive eyes, and when she lowered them she gave little quiet oblique glances at his person, hishands, his feet, his clothes, as if she were considering him. Even his person, Isabel might havereminded her, was better than Mr. Rosier's. But Isabel contented herself at such moments withwondering where this gentleman was; he came no more at all to Palazzo Roccanera. It wassurprising, as I say, the hold it had taken of her--the idea of assisting her husband to be pleased.It was surprising for a variety of reasons which I shall presently touch upon. On the evening Ispeak of, while Lord Warburton sat there, she had been on the point of taking the great step ofgoing out of the room and leaving her companions alone. I say the great step, because it was in thislight that Gilbert Osmond would have regarded it, and Isabel was trying as much as possible totake her husband's view. She succeeded after a fashion, but she fell short of the point I mention.After all she couldn't rise to it; something held her and made this impossible. It was not exactlythat it would be base or insidious; for women as a general thing practise such manoeuvres with aperfectly good conscience, and Isabel was instinctively much more true than false to the commongenius of her sex. There was a vague doubt that interposed--a sense that she was not quite sure. Soshe remained in the drawing-room, and after a while Lord Warburton went off to his party, ofwhich he promised to give Pansy a full account on the morrow. After he had gone she wondered ifshe had prevented something which would have happened if she had absented herself for a quarterof an hour; and then she pronounced--always mentally--that when their distinguished visitorshould wish her to go away he would easily find means to let her know it. Pansy said nothingwhatever about him after he had gone, and Isabel studiously said nothing, as she had taken a vowof reserve until after he should have declared himself. He was a little longer in coming to this thanmight seem to accord with the description he had given Isabel of his feelings. Pansy went to bed,and Isabel had to admit that she could not now guess what her stepdaughter was thinking of. Hertransparent little companion was for the moment not to be seen through.She remained alone, looking at the fire, until, at the end of half an hour, her husband came in. Hemoved about a while in silence and then sat down; he looked at the fire like herself. But she nowhad transferred her eyes from the flickering flame in the chimney to Osmond's face, and shewatched him while he kept his silence. Covert observation had become a habit with her; aninstinct, of which it is not an exaggeration to say that it was allied to that of self-defence, had madeit habitual. She wished as much as possible to know his thoughts, to know what he would say,beforehand, so that she might prepare her answer. Preparing answers had not been her strong pointof old; she had rarely in this respect got further than thinking afterwards of clever things she mighthave said. But she had learned caution--learned it in a measure from her husband's verycountenance. It was the same face she had looked into with eyes equally earnest perhaps, but lesspenetrating, on the terrace of a Florentine villa; except that Osmond had grown slightly stoutersince his marriage. He still, however, might strike one as very distinguished."Has Lord Warburton been here?" he presently asked."Yes, he stayed half an hour."第 278 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"Did he see Pansy?""Yes; he sat on the sofa beside her.""Did he talk with her much?""He talked almost only to her.""It seems to me he's attentive. Isn't that what you call it?""I don't call it anything," said Isabel; "I've waited for you to give it a name.""That's a consideration you don't always show," Osmond answered after a moment."I've determined, this time, to try and act as you'd like. I've so often failed of that."Osmond turned his head slowly, looking at her. "Are you trying to quarrel with me?""No, I'm trying to live at peace.""Nothing's more easy; you know I don't quarrel myself.""What do you call it when you try to make me angry?" Isabel asked."I don't try; if I've done so it has been the most natural thing in the world. Moreover I'm not in theleast trying now."Isabel smiled. "It doesn't matter. I've determined never to be angry again.""That's an excellent resolve. Your temper isn't good.""No--it's not good." She pushed away the book she had been reading and took up the band oftapestry Pansy had left on the table."That's partly why I've not spoken to you about this business of my daughter's," Osmond said,designating Pansy in the manner that was most frequent with him. "I was afraid I should encounteropposition--that you too would have views on the subject. I've sent little Rosier about hisbusiness.""You were afraid I'd plead for Mr. Rosier? Haven't you noticed that I've never spoken to you ofhim?""I've never given you a chance. We've so little conversation in these days. I know he was an oldfriend of yours.""Yes; he's an old friend of mine." Isabel cared little more for him than for the tapestry that she heldin her hand; but it was true that he was an old friend and that with her husband she felt a desire notto extenuate such ties. He had a way of expressing contempt for them which fortified her loyalty tothem, even when, as in the present case, they were in themselves insignificant. She sometimes felta sort of passion of tenderness for memories which had no other merit than that they belonged toher unmarried life. "But as regards Pansy," she added in a moment, "I've given him noencouragement.""That's fortunate," Osmond observed."Fortunate for me, I suppose you mean. For him it matters little.""There's no use talking of him," Osmond said. "As I tell you, I've turned him out."第 279 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"Yes; but a lover outside's always a lover. He's sometimes even more of one. Mr. Rosier still hashope.""He's welcome to the comfort of it! My daughter has only to sit perfectly quiet to become LadyWarburton.""Should you like that?" Isabel asked with a simplicity which was not so affected as it may appear.She was resolved to assume nothing, for Osmond had a way of unexpectedly turning herassumptions against her. The intensity with which he would like his daughter to become LadyWarburton had been the very basis of her own recent reflections. But that was for herself; shewould recognise nothing until Osmond should have put it into words; she would not take forgranted with him that he thought Lord Warburton a prize worth an amount of effort that wasunusual among the Osmonds. It was Gilbert's constant intimation that for him nothing in life was aprize; that he treated as from equal to equal with the most distinguished people in the world, andthat his daughter had only to look about her to pick out a prince. It cost him therefore a lapse fromconsistency to say explicitly that he yearned for Lord Warburton and that if this nobleman shouldescape his equivalent might not be found; with which moreover it was another of his customaryimplications that he was never inconsistent. He would have liked his wife to glide over the point.But strangely enough, now that she was face to face with him and although an hour before she hadalmost invented a scheme for pleasing him, Isabel was not accommodating, would not glide. Andyet she knew exactly the effect on his mind of her question: it would operate as an humiliation.Never mind; he was terribly capable of humiliating her--all the more so that he was also capable ofwaiting for great opportunities and of showing sometimes an almost unaccountable indifference tosmall ones. Isabel perhaps took a small opportunity because she would not have availed herself ofa great one.Osmond at present acquitted himself very honourably. "I should like it extremely; it would be agreat marriage. And then Lord Warburton has another advantage: he's an old friend of yours. Itwould be pleasant for him to come into the family. It's very odd Pansy's admirers should all beyour old friends.""It's natural that they should come to see me. In coming to see me they see Pansy. Seeing her it'snatural they should fall in love with her.""So I think. But you're not bound to do so.""If she should marry Lord Warburton I should be very glad," Isabel went on frankly. "He's anexcellent man. You say, however, that she has only to sit perfectly still. Perhaps she won't sitperfectly still. If she loses Mr. Rosier she may jump up!"Osmond appeared to give no heed to this; he sat gazing at the fire. "Pansy would like to be a greatlady," he remarked in a moment with a certain tenderness of tone. "She wishes above all toplease," he added."To please Mr. Rosier, perhaps.""No, to please me.""Me too a little, I think," said Isabel."Yes, she has a great opinion of you. But she'll do what I like."第 280 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"If you're sure of that, it's very well," she went on."Meantime," said Osmond, "I should like our distinguished visitor to speak.""He has spoken--to me. He has told me it would be a great pleasure to him to believe she couldcare for him."Osmond turned his head quickly, but at first he said nothing. Then, "Why didn't you tell me that?"he asked sharply."There was no opportunity. You know how we live. I've taken the first chance that has offered.""Did you speak to him of Rosier?""Oh yes, a little.""That was hardly necessary.""I thought it best he should know, so that, so that--" And Isabel paused."So that what?""So that he might act accordingly.""So that he might back out, do you mean?""No, so that he might advance while there's yet time.""That's not the effect it seems to have had.""You should have patience," said Isabel. "You know Englishmen are shy.""This one's not. He was not when he made love to YOU."She had been afraid Osmond would speak of that; it was disagreeable to her. "I beg your pardon;he was extremely so," she returned.He answered nothing for some time; he took up a book and fingered the pages while she sat silentand occupied herself with Pansy's tapestry. "You must have a great deal of influence with him,"Osmond went on at last. "The moment you really wish it you can bring him to the point."This was more offensive still; but she felt the great naturalness of his saying it, and it was after allextremely like what she had said to herself. "Why should I have influence?" she asked. "What haveI ever done to put him under an obligation to me?""You refused to marry him," said Osmond with his eyes on his book."I must not presume too much on that," she replied.He threw down the book presently and got up, standing before the fire with his hands behind him."Well, I hold that it lies in your hands. I shall leave it there. With a little good-will you maymanage it. Think that over and remember how much I count on you." He waited a little, to give hertime to answer; but she answered nothing, and he presently strolled out of the room.CHAPTER XLIIShe had answered nothing because his words had put the situation before her and she was absorbedin looking at it. There was something in them that suddenly made vibrations deep, so that she hadbeen afraid to trust herself to speak. After he had gone she leaned back in her chair and closed her第 281 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网eyes; and for a long time, far into the night and still further, she sat in the still drawing-room, givenup to her meditation. A servant came in to attend to the fire, and she bade him bring fresh candlesand then go to bed. Osmond had told her to think of what he had said; and she did so indeed, andof many other things. The suggestion from another that she had a definite influence on LordWarburton--this had given her the start that accompanies unexpected recognition. Was it true thatthere was something still between them that might be a handle to make him declare himself toPansy--a susceptibility, on his part, to approval, a desire to do what would please her? Isabel hadhitherto not asked herself the question, because she had not been forced; but now that it wasdirectly presented to her she saw the answer, and the answer frightened her. Yes, there wassomething--something on Lord Warburton's part. When he had first come to Rome she believedthe link that united them to be completely snapped; but little by little she had been reminded that ithad yet a palpable existence. It was as thin as a hair, but there were moments when she seemed tohear it vibrate. For herself nothing was changed; what she once thought of him she always thought;it was needless this feeling should change; it seemed to her in fact a better feeling than ever. Buthe? had he still the idea that she might be more to him than other women? Had he the wish toprofit by the memory of the few moments of intimacy through which they had once passed? Isabelknew she had read some of the signs of such a disposition. But what were his hopes, hispretensions, and in what strange way were they mingled with his evidently very sincereappreciation of poor Pansy? Was he in love with Gilbert Osmond's wife, and if so what comfortdid he expect to derive from it? If he was in love with Pansy he was not in love with herstepmother, and if he was in love with her stepmother he was not in love with Pansy. Was she tocultivate the advantage she possessed in order to make him commit himself to Pansy, knowing hewould do so for her sake and not for the small creature's own--was this the service her husband hadasked of her? This at any rate was the duty with which she found herself confronted--from themoment she admitted to herself that her old friend had still an uneradicated predilection for hersociety. It was not an agreeable task; it was in fact a repulsive one. She asked herself with dismaywhether Lord Warburton were pretending to be in love with Pansy in order to cultivate anothersatisfaction and what might be called other chances. Of this refinement of duplicity she presentlyacquitted him; she preferred to believe him in perfect good faith. But if his admiration for Pansywere a delusion this was scarcely better than its being an affectation. Isabel wandered among theseugly possibilities until she had completely lost her way; some of them, as she suddenlyencountered them, seemed ugly enough. Then she broke out of the labyrinth, rubbing her eyes, anddeclared that her imagination surely did her little honour and that her husband's did him even less.Lord Warburton was as disinterested as he need be, and she was no more to him than she needwish. She would rest upon this till the contrary should be proved; proved more effectually than bya cynical intimation of Osmond's.Such a resolution, however, brought her this evening but little peace, for her soul was haunted withterrors which crowded to the foreground of thought as quickly as a place was made for them. Whathad suddenly set them into livelier motion she hardly knew, unless it were the strange impressionshe had received in the afternoon of her husband's being in more direct communication withMadame Merle than she suspected. That impression came back to her from time to time, and nowshe wondered it had never come before. Besides this, her short interview with Osmond half an第 282 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网