Page 78 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

thy self. I didn’t read it, but Ralph just handed me the book
with the principal passages marked. It was understood to
be a description of my conversation; American peculiari-
ties, nasal twang, Yankee notions, stars and stripes. Well,
it was not at all accurate; she couldn’t have listened very at-
tentively. I had no objection to her giving a report of my
conversation, if she liked; but I didn’t like the idea that she
hadn’t taken the trouble to listen to it. Of course I talk like
an American—I can’t talk like a Hottentot. However I talk,
I’ve made them understand me pretty well over here. But
I don’t talk like the old gentleman in that lady’s novel. He
wasn’t an American; we wouldn’t have him over there at any
price. I just mention that fact to show you that they’re not
always accurate. Of course, as I’ve no daughters, and as Mrs.
Touchett resides in Florence, I haven’t had much chance to
notice about the young ladies. It sometimes appears as if the
young women in the lower class were not very well treated;
but I guess their position is better in the upper and even to
some extent in the middle.’
‘Gracious,’ Isabel exclaimed; ‘how many classes have
they? About fifty, I suppose.’
‘Well, I don’t know that I ever counted them. I never took
much notice of the classes. That’s the advantage of being an
American here; you don’t belong to any class.’
‘I hope so,’ said Isabel. ‘Imagine one’s belonging to an
English class!’
‘Well, I guess some of them are pretty comfortable—
especially towards the top. But for me there are only two
classes: the people I trust and the people I don’t. Of those

78 The Portrait of a Lady