It’s the proper duty of the daughter of the house — when she grows up.”
“So it seems to me, Madame Merle!” Pansy cried. “You shall see how well I’ll make it. A spoonful for each.” And she began to busy herself at the table.
“Two spoonfuls for me,” said the Countess, who, with Madame Merle, remained for some moments watching her. “Listen to me, Pansy,” the Countess resumed at last. “I should like to know what you think of your visitor.”
“Ah, she’s not mine — she’s papa’s,” Pansy objected.
“Miss Archer came to see you as well,” said Madame Merle.
“I’m very happy to hear that. She has been very polite to me.”
“Do you like her then?” the Countess asked.
“She’s charming — charming,” Pansy repeated in her little neat conversational tone. “She pleases me thoroughly.”
“And how do you think she pleases your father?”
“Ah really, Countess!” murmured Madame Merle dissuasively. “Go and call them to tea,” she went on to the child.
“You’ll see if they don’t like it!” Pansy declared; and departed to summon the others, who had still lingered at the end of the terrace.
“If Miss Archer’s to become her mother it’s surely interesting to know if the child likes her,” said the Countess.
“If your brother marries again it won’t be for Pansy’s sake,” Madame Merle replied. “She’ll soon be sixteen, and after that she’ll begin to need a husband rather than a stepmother.”
“And will you provide the husband as well?”
“I shall certainly take an interest in her marrying fortunately. I imagine you’ll do the same.”
“Indeed I shan’t!” cried the Countess. “Why should I, of all women, set such a price on a husband?”
“You didn’t marry fortunately; that’s what I’m speaking of. When I say a husband I mean a good one.”
“There are no good ones. Osmond won’t be a good one.”
Madame Merle closed her eyes a moment. “You’re irritated just now; I don’t know why,” she presently said. “I don’t think you’ll really object either to your brother’s or to your niece’s marrying, when the time comes for them to do so; and as regards Pansy I’m confident that we shall some day have the pleasure of looking for a husband for her together. Your large acquaintance will be a great help.”
“Yes, I’m irritated,” the Countess answered. “You often irritate me. Your own coolness is fabulous. You’re a strange woman.”
“It’s much better that we should always act together,” Madame Merle went on.
“Do you mean that as a threat?” asked the Countess rising. Madame Merle shook her head as for quiet amusement. “No indeed, you’ve not my coolness!”
Isabel and Mr. Osmond were now slowly coming toward them and Isabel had taken Pansy by the hand. “Do you pretend to believe he’d make her happy?” the Countess demanded.
“If he should marry Miss Archer I suppose he’d behave like a gentleman.”
The Countess jerked herself into a succession of attitudes. “Do you mean as most gentlemen behave? That would be much to be thankful for! Of course Osmond’s a gentleman; his own sister needn’t be reminded of that. But does he think he can marry any girl he happens to pick out? Osmond’s a gentleman, of course; but I must say I’ve NEVER, no, no, never, seen any one of Osmond’s pretensions! What they’re all founded on is more than I can say. I’m his own sister; I might he supposed to know. Who is he, if you please? What has he ever done? If there had been anything particularly grand in his origin — if he were made of some superior clay — I presume I should have got some inkling of it. If there had been any great honours or splendours in the family I should certainly have made the most of them: they would have been quite in my line. But there’s nothing, nothing, nothing. One’s parents were charming people of course; but so were yours, I’ve no doubt. Every one’s a charming person nowadays. Even I’m a charming person; don’t laugh, it has literally been said. As for Osmond, he has always appeared to believe that he’s descended from the gods.”
“You may say what you please,” said Madame Merle, who had listened to this quick outbreak none the less attentively, we may believe, because her eye wandered away from the speaker and her hands busied themselves with adjusting the knots of ribbon on her dress. “You Osmonds are a fine race — your blood must flow from some very pure source. Your brother, like an intelligent man, has had the conviction of it if he has not had the proofs. You’re modest about it, but you yourself are extremely distinguished. What do you say about your niece? The child’s a little princess. Nevertheless,” Madame Merle added, “it won’t be an easy matter for Osmond to marry Miss Archer. Yet he can try.”
“I hope she’ll refuse him. It will take him down a little.”
“We mustn’t forget that he is one of the cleverest of men.”
“I’ve heard you say that before, but I haven’t yet discovered what he has done.”
“What he has done? He has done nothing that has had to be undone. And he has known how to wait.”
“To wait for Miss Archer’s money? How much of it is there?”
“That’s not what I mean,” said Madame Merle. “Miss Archer has seventy thousand pounds.”
“Well, it’s a pity she’s so charming,” the Countess declared. “To be sacrificed, any girl would do. She needn’t be superior.”
“If she weren’t superior your brother would never look at her. He must have the best.”
“Yes,” returned the Countess as they went forward a little to meet the others, “he’s very hard to satisfy. That makes me tremble for her happiness!”
Chapter XXVI
Gilbert Osmond came to see Isabel again; that is he came to Palazzo Crescentini. He had other friends there as well, and to Mrs. Touchett and Madame Merle he was always impartially civil; but the former of these ladies noted the fact that in the course of a fortnight he called five times, and compared it with another fact that she found no difficulty in remembering. Two visits a year had hitherto constituted his regular tribute to Mrs. Touchett’s worth, and she had never observed him select for such visits those moments, of almost periodical recurrence, when Madame Merle was under her roof. It was not for Madame Merle that he came; these two were old friends and he never put himself out for her. He was not fond of Ralph — Ralph had told her so — and it was not supposable that Mr. Osmond had suddenly taken a fancy to her son. Ralph was imperturbable — Ralph had a kind of loose-fitting urbanity that wrapped him about like an ill-made overcoat, but of which he never divested himself; he thought Mr. Osmond very good company and was willing at any time to look at him in the light of hospitality. But
