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‘He doesn’t like your having spoken to Pansy. Ah, he
doesn’t like it at all,’ said Madame Merle.
‘I’m perfectly willing to give him a chance to tell me so!
‘If you do that he’ll tell you more than you care to hear.
Go to the house, for the next month, as little as possible, and
leave the rest to me.’
‘As little as possible? Who’s to measure the possibility?’
‘Let me measure it. Go on Thursday evenings with the
rest of the world, but don’t go at all at odd times, and don’t
fret about Pansy. I’ll see that she understands everything.
She’s a calm little nature; she’ll take it quietly.’
Edward Rosier fretted about Pansy a good deal, but he
did as he was advised, and awaited another Thursday eve-
ning before returning to Palazzo Roccanera. There had been
a party at dinner, so that though he went early the company
was already tolerably numerous. Osmond, as usual, was in
the first room, near the fire, staring straight at the door, so
that, not to be distinctly uncivil, Rosier had to go and speak
to him.
‘I’m glad that you can take a hint,’ Pansy’s father said,
slightly closing his keen, conscious eyes.
‘I take no hints. But I took a message, as I supposed it to
be.’
‘You took it? Where did you take it?’
It seemed to poor Rosier he was being insulted, and he
waited a moment, asking himself how much a true lover
ought to submit to. ‘Madame Merle gave me, as I under-
stood it, a message from you-to the effect that you declined
to give me the opportunity I desire, the opportunity to ex-
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