Page 328 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘I’ll take the red, thank you,’ said mother Catherine in
the spectacles. I’m so red myself. They’ll comfort us on our
way back to Rome.’
‘Ah, they won’t last,’ cried the young girl. ‘I wish I could
give you something that would last!’
‘You’ve given us a good memory of yourself, my daugh-
ter. That will last!’
‘I wish nuns could wear pretty things. I would give you
my blue beads,’ the child went on.
‘And do you go back to Rome to-night?’ her father en-
quired.
‘Yes, we take the train again. We’ve so much to do la-
bas.’
‘Are you not tired?’
‘We are never tired.’
‘Ah, my sister, sometimes,’ murmured the junior vota-
ress.
‘Not to-day, at any rate. We have rested too well here.
Que Dieu vous garde, ma fille.’
Their host, while they exchanged kisses with his daugh-
ter, went forward to open the door through which they were
to pass; but as he did so he gave a slight exclamation, and
stood looking beyond. The door opened into a vaulted ante-
chamber, as high as a chapel and paved with red tiles; and
into this ante-chamber a lady had just been admitted by a
servant, a lad in shabby livery, who was now ushering her
toward the apartment in which our friends were grouped.
The gentleman at the door, after dropping his exclamation,
remained silent; in silence too the lady advanced. He gave

328 The Portrait of a Lady