Page 777 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

ment, with new-looking furniture; a large clean stove of
white porcelain, unlighted, a collection of wax flowers un-
der glass, and a series of engravings from religious pictures
on the walls. On the other occasion Isabel had thought it
less like Rome than like Philadelphia, but to-day she made
no reflexions; the apartment only seemed to her very emp-
ty and very soundless. The portress returned at the end of
some five minutes, ushering in another person. Isabel got
up, expecting to see one of the ladies of the sisterhood, but
to her extreme surprise found herself confronted with Ma-
dame Merle. The effect was strange, for Madame Merle was
already so present to her vision that her appearance in the
flesh was like suddenly, and rather awfully, seeing a painted
picture move. Isabel had been thinking all day of her falsity,
her audacity, her ability, her probable suffering; and these
dark things seemed to flash with a sudden light as she en-
tered the room. Her being there at all had the character of
ugly evidence, of handwritings, of profaned relics, of grim
things produced in court. It made Isabel feel faint; if it had
been necessary to speak on the spot she would have been
quite unable. But no such necessity was distinct to her; it
seemed to her indeed that she had absolutely nothing to say
to Madame Merle. In one’s relations with this lady, however,
there were never any absolute necessities; she had a manner
which carried off not only her own deficiencies but those of
other people. But she was different from usual: she came in
slowly, behind the portress, and Isabel instantly perceived
that she was not likely to depend upon her habitual re-
sources. For her too the occasion was exceptional, and she

777