Page 480 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

Chapter 34

One morning, on her return from her drive, some half-
hour before luncheon, she quitted her vehicle in the court
of the palace and, instead of ascending the great staircase,
crossed the court, passed beneath another archway and en-
tered the garden. A sweeter spot at this moment could not
have been imagined. The stillness of noontide hung over it,
and the warm shade, enclosed and still, made bowers like
spacious caves. Ralph was sitting there in the clear gloom,
at the base of a statue of Terpsichore-a dancing nymph with
taper fingers and inflated draperies in the manner of Ber-
nini; the extreme relaxation of his attitude suggested at first
to Isabel that he was asleep. Her light footstep on the grass
had not roused him, and before turning away she stood for
a moment looking at him. During this instant he opened
his eyes; upon which she sat down on a rustic chair that
matched with his own. Though in her irritation she had
accused him of indifference she was not blind to the fact
that he had visibly had something to brood over. But she
had explained his air of absence partly by the languor of
his increased weakness, partly by worries connected with
the property inherited from his father-the fruit of eccen-
tric arrangements of which Mrs. Touchett disapproved and
which, as she had told Isabel, now encountered opposition
from the other partners in the bank. He ought to have gone

480 The Portrait of a Lady