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had undertaken to treat it by the light of the moment. This
gave her a peculiar gravity; she pretended not even to smile,
and though Isabel saw that she was more than ever play-
ing a part it seemed to her that on the whole the wonderful
woman had never been so natural. She looked at her young
friend from head to foot, but not harshly nor defiantly; with
a cold gentleness rather, and an absence of any air of al-
lusion to their last meeting. It was as if she had wished to
mark a distinction. She had been irritated then, she was rec-
onciled now.
‘You can leave us alone,’ she said to the portress; ‘in five
minutes this lady will ring for you.’ And then she turned to
Isabel, who, after noting what has just been mentioned, had
ceased to notice and had let her eyes wander as far as the
limits of the room would allow. She wished never to look at
Madame Merle again. ‘You’re surprised to find me here, and
I’m afraid you’re not pleased,’ this lady went on. ‘You don’t
see why I should have come; it’s as if I had anticipated you.
I confess I’ve been rather indiscreet-I ought to have asked
your permission.’ There was none of the oblique movement
of irony in this; it was said simply and mildly; but Isabel,
far afloat on a sea of wonder and pain, could not have told
herself with what intention it was uttered. ‘But I’ve not been
sitting long,’ Madame Merle continued; ‘that is I’ve not been
long with Pansy. I came to see her because it occurred to
me this afternoon that she must be rather lonely and per-
haps even a little miserable. It may be good for a small girl;
I know so little about small girls; I can’t tell. At any rate it’s
a little dismal. Therefore I cam the chance. I knew of course

778 The Portrait of a Lady