VOLUME II
37. CHAPTER XXXVII
(continued)
The other rooms meanwhile had become conscious of the arrival of
Madame Merle, who, wherever she went, produced an impression when
she entered. How she did it the most attentive spectator could
not have told you, for she neither spoke loud, nor laughed
profusely, nor moved rapidly, nor dressed with splendour, nor
appealed in any appreciable manner to the audience. Large, fair,
smiling, serene, there was something in her very tranquillity
that diffused itself, and when people looked round it was
because of a sudden quiet. On this occasion she had done the
quietest thing she could do; after embracing Mrs. Osmond, which
was more striking, she had sat down on a small sofa to commune
with the master of the house. There was a brief exchange of
commonplaces between these two--they always paid, in public, a
certain formal tribute to the commonplace--and then Madame Merle,
whose eyes had been wandering, asked if little Mr. Rosier had
come this evening.
"He came nearly an hour ago--but he has disappeared," Osmond
said.
"And where's Pansy?"
"In the other room. There are several people there."
"He's probably among them," said Madame Merle.
"Do you wish to see him?" Osmond asked in a provokingly
pointless tone.
Madame Merle looked at him a moment; she knew each of his tones
to the eighth of a note. "Yes, I should like to say to him that
I've told you what he wants, and that it interests you but
feebly."
"Don't tell him that. He'll try to interest me more--which is
exactly what I don't want. Tell him I hate his proposal."
"But you don't hate it."
"It doesn't signify; I don't love it. I let him see that, myself,
this evening; I was rude to him on purpose. That sort of thing's
a great bore. There's no hurry."
"I'll tell him that you'll take time and think it over."
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