Volume I Part 41 (1/2)
”It would please me better if you'd remain with me,” said Madame Merle, while Mr. Osmond and his companions, who had bowed low again to the other visitor, pa.s.sed into the ante-chamber.
”Oh yes, I'll stay,” Pansy answered; and she stood near Madame Merle, surrendering her little hand, which this lady took. She stared out of the window; her eyes had filled with tears.
”I'm glad they've taught you to obey,” said Madame Merle. ”That's what good little girls should do.”
”Oh yes, I obey very well,” cried Pansy with soft eagerness, almost with boastfulness, as if she had been speaking of her piano-playing. And then she gave a faint, just audible sigh.
Madame Merle, holding her hand, drew it across her own fine palm and looked at it. The gaze was critical, but it found nothing to deprecate; the child's small hand was delicate and fair. ”I hope they always see that you wear gloves,” she said in a moment. ”Little girls usually dislike them.”
”I used to dislike them, but I like them now,” the child made answer.
”Very good, I'll make you a present of a dozen.”
”I thank you very much. What colours will they be?” Pansy demanded with interest.
Madame Merle meditated. ”Useful colours.”
”But very pretty?”
”Are you very fond of pretty things?”
”Yes; but--but not too fond,” said Pansy with a trace of asceticism.
”Well, they won't be too pretty,” Madame Merle returned with a laugh.
She took the child's other hand and drew her nearer; after which, looking at her a moment, ”Shall you miss mother Catherine?” she went on.
”Yes--when I think of her.”
”Try then not to think of her. Perhaps some day,” added Madame Merle, ”you'll have another mother.”
”I don't think that's necessary,” Pansy said, repeating her little soft conciliatory sigh. ”I had more than thirty mothers at the convent.”
Her father's step sounded again in the antechamber, and Madame Merle got up, releasing the child. Mr. Osmond came in and closed the door; then, without looking at Madame Merle, he pushed one or two chairs back into their places. His visitor waited a moment for him to speak, watching him as he moved about. Then at last she said: ”I hoped you'd have come to Rome. I thought it possible you'd have wished yourself to fetch Pansy away.”
”That was a natural supposition; but I'm afraid it's not the first time I've acted in defiance of your calculations.”
”Yes,” said Madame Merle, ”I think you very perverse.”
Mr. Osmond busied himself for a moment in the room--there was plenty of s.p.a.ce in it to move about--in the fas.h.i.+on of a man mechanically seeking pretexts for not giving an attention which may be embarra.s.sing.
Presently, however, he had exhausted his pretexts; there was nothing left for him--unless he took up a book--but to stand with his hands behind him looking at Pansy. ”Why didn't you come and see the last of mamman Catherine?” he asked of her abruptly in French.
Pansy hesitated a moment, glancing at Madame Merle. ”I asked her to stay with me,” said this lady, who had seated herself again in another place.
”Ah, that was better,” Osmond conceded. With which he dropped into a chair and sat looking at Madame Merle; bent forward a little, his elbows on the edge of the arms and his hands interlocked.
”She's going to give me some gloves,” said Pansy.
”You needn't tell that to every one, my dear,” Madame Merle observed.