Page 502 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

had had, it seemed to suggest-or what penalties for non-per-
formance she dreaded!
Her description of her aunt had not been incorrect; the
Countess Gemini was further than ever from having folded
her wings. She entered the room with a flutter through the
air and kissed Isabel first on the forehead and then on each
cheek as if according to some ancient prescribed rite. She
drew the visitor to a sofa and, looking at her with a variety
of turns of the head, began to talk very much as if, seated
brush in hand before an easel, she were applying a series
of considered touches to a composition of figures already
sketched in. ‘If you expect me to congratulate you I must beg
you to excuse me. I don’t suppose you care if I do or not; I
believe you’re supposed not to care-through being so clever-
for all sorts of ordinary things. But I care myself if I tell fibs;
I never tell them unless there’s something rather good to be
gained. I don’t see what’s to be gained with you—especially
as you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t make professions any
more than I make paper flowers or flouncey lampshades-I
don’t know how. My lampshades would be sure to take fire,
my roses and my fibs to be larger than life. I’m very glad
for my own sake that you’re to marry Osmond; but I won’t
pretend I’m glad for yours. You’re very brilliant-you know
that’s the way you’re always spoken of; you’re an heiress and
very good-looking and original, not banal; so it’s a good
thing to have you in the family. Our family’s very good, you
know; Osmond will have told you that; and my mother was
rather distinguished-she was called the American Corinne.
But we’re dreadfully fallen, I think, and perhaps you’ll pick

502 The Portrait of a Lady