Page 736 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

frighten me. I wonder if you guess some of my thoughts.’
‘I trouble about them no more than I can help. I’ve quite
enough of my own.’
‘That’s because they’re so delightful.’
Osmond rested his head against the back of his chair and
looked at his companion with a cynical directness which
seemed also partly an expression of fatigue. ‘You do aggra-
vate me,’ he remarked in a moment. ‘I’m very tired.’
‘Eh moi donc!’ cried Madame Merle.
‘With you it’s because you fatigue yourself. With me it’s
not my own fault.’
‘When I fatigue myself it’s for you. I’ve given you an in-
terest. That’s a great gift.’
‘Do you call it an interest?’ Osmond enquired with de-
tachment.
‘Certainly, since it helps you to pass your time.’
‘The time has never seemed longer to me than this win-
ter.’
‘You’ve never looked better; you’ve never been so agree-
able, so brilliant.’
‘Damn my brilliancy!’ he thoughtfully murmured. ‘How
little, after all, you know me!’
‘If I don’t know you I know nothing,’ smiled Madame
Merle. ‘You’ve the feeling of complete success.’
‘No, I shall not have that till I’ve made you stop judging
me.’
‘I did that long ago. I speak from old knowledge. But you
express yourself more too.’
Osmond just hung fire. ‘I wish you’d express yourself

736 The Portrait of a Lady