Page 523 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

He felt extremely bold after the dull girl in so vain a disguise
of rose-colour had responded to the call of her mother, who
came in to say, with a significant simper at Rosier, that she
must carry her off to other triumphs. The mother and daugh-
ter departed together, and now it depended only upon him
that he should be virtually alone with Pansy. He had never
been alone with her before; he had never been alone with
a jeune fille. It was a great moment; poor Rosier began to
pat his forehead again. There was another room beyond the
one in which they stood-a small room that had been thrown
open and lighted, but that, the company not being numer-
ous, had remained empty all the evening. It was empty yet;
it was upholstered in pale yellow; there were several lamps;
through the open door it looked the very temple of autho-
rized love. Rosier gazed a moment through this aperture; he
was afraid that Pansy would run away, and felt almost ca-
pable of stretching out a hand to detain her. But she lingered
where the other maiden had left them, making no motion to
join a knot of visitors on the far side of the room. For a little
it occurred to him that she was frightened-too frightened
perhaps to move; but a second glance assured him she was
not, and he then reflected that she was too innocent indeed
for that. After a supreme hesitation he asked her if he might
go and look at the yellow room, which seemed so attractive
yet so virginal. He had been there already with Osmond, to
inspect the furniture, which was of the First French Empire,
and especially to admire the clock (which he didn’t really
admire), an immense classic structure of that period. He
therefore felt that he had now begun to manoeuvre.

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