Page 761 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

brace with her eye his whole deliberately indifferent yet most
expressive figure; after which she quickly left the room. Her
faculties, her energy, her passion, were all dispersed again;
she felt as if a cold, dark mist had suddenly encompassed
her. Osmond possessed in a supreme degree the art of elicit-
ing any weakness. On her way back to her room she found
the Countess Gemini standing in the open doorway of a
little parlour in which a small collection of heterogeneous
books had been arranged. The Countess had an open vol-
ume in her hand; she appeared to have been glancing down
a page which failed to strike her as interesting. At the sound
of Isabel’s step she raised her head.
‘Ah my dear,’ she said, ‘you, who are so literary, do tell me
some amusing book to read! Everything here’s of a dreari-
ness-! Do you think this would do me any good?’
Isabel glanced at the title of the volume she held out, but
without reading or understanding it. ‘I’m afraid I can’t ad-
vise you. I’ve had bad news. My cousin, Ralph Touchett, is
dying.’
The Countess threw down her book. ‘Ah, he was so sim-
patico. I’m awfully sorry for you.’
‘You would be sorrier still if you knew.’
‘What is there to know? You look very badly,’ the Count-
ess added.
‘You must have been with Osmond.’
Half an hour before Isabel would have listened very cold-
ly to an intimation that she should ever feel a desire for the
sympathy of her sister-in-law, and there can be no better
proof of her present embarrassment than the fact that she

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