"You can leave us alone," she said to the portress; "in five minutes this lady will ring for you." And then she turned to Isabel, who, after noting what has just been mentioned, had ceased to notice and had let her eyes wander as far as the limits of the room would allow.She wished never to look at Madame Merle again."You're surprised to find me here, and I'm afraid you're not pleased," this lady went on."You don't see why I should have come; it's as if Ihad anticipated you.I confess I've been rather indiscreet-I ought to have asked your permission." There was none of the oblique movement of irony in this; it was said simply and mildly; but Isabel, far afloat on a sea of wonder and pain, could not have told herself with what intention it was uttered."But I've not been sitting long,"Madame Merle continued; "that is I've not been long with Pansy.I came to see her because it occurred to me this afternoon that she must be rather lonely and perhaps even a little miserable.It may be good for a small girl; I know so little about small girls; I can't tell.At any rate it's a little dismal.Therefore I cam the chance.I knew of course that you'd come, and her father as well; still, I had not been told other visitors were forbidden.The good woman-what's her name? Madame Catherine-made no objection whatever.I stayed twenty minutes with Pansy; she has a charming little room, not in the least conventual, with a piano and flowers.She has arranged it delightfully; she has so much taste.Of course it's all none of my business, but I feel happier since I've seen her.She may even have a maid if she likes; but of course she has no occasion to dress.She wears a little black frock; she looks so charming.I went afterwards to see Mother Catherine, who has a very good room too; I assure you I don't find the poor sisters at all monastic.Mother Catherine has a most coquettish little toilet-table, with something that looked uncommonly like a bottle of eau-de-Cologne.She speaks delightfully of Pansy; says it's a great happiness for them to have her.She's a little saint of heaven and a model to the oldest of them.just as Iwas leaving Madame Catherine the portress came to say to her that there was a lady for the signorina.Of course I knew it must be you, and I asked her to let me go and receive you in her place.She demurred greatly-I must tell you that-and said it was her duty to notify the Mother Superior; it was of such high importance that you should be treated with respect.I requested her to let the Mother Superior alone and asked her how she supposed I would treat you!"So Madame Merle went on, with much of the brilliancy of a woman who had long been a mistress of the art of conversation.But there were phases and gradations in her speech, not one of which was lost upon Isabel's ear, though her eyes were absent from her companion's face.She had not proceeded far before Isabel noted a sudden break in her voice, a lapse in her continuity, which was in itself a complete drama.This subtle modulation marked a momentous discovery-the perception of an entirely new attitude on the part of her listener.Madame Merle had guessed in the space of an instant that everything was at end between them, and in the space of another instant she had guessed the reason why.The person who stood there was not the same one she had seen hitherto, but was a very different person-a person who knew her secret.This discovery was tremendous, and from the moment she made it the most accomplished of women faltered and lost her courage.But only for that moment.Then the conscious stream of her perfect manner gathered itself again and flowed on as smoothly as might be to the end.But it was only because she had the end in view that she was able to proceed.She had been touched with a point that made her quiver, and she needed all the alertness of her will to repress her agitation.Her only safety was in her not betraying herself.She resisted this, but the startled quality of her voice refused to improve she couldn't help it while she heard herself say she hardly knew what.The tide of her confidence ebbed, and she was able only just to glide into port, faintly grazing the bottom.
Isabel saw it all as distinctly as if it had been reflected in a large clear glass.It might have been a great moment for her, for it might have been a moment of triumph.That Madame Merle had lost her pluck and saw before her the phantom of exposure-this in itself was a revenge, this in itself was almost the promise of a brighter day.
And for a moment during which she stood apparently looking out of the window, with her back half-turned, Isabel enjoyed that knowledge.On the other side of the window lay the garden of the convent; but this is not what she saw; she saw nothing of the budding plants and the glowing afternoon.She saw, in the crude light of that revelation which had already become a part of experience and to which the very frailty of the vessel in which it had been offered her only gave an intrinsic price, the dry staring fact that she had been an applied handled hung-up tool, as senseless and convenient as mere shaped wood and iron.All the bitterness of this knowledge surged into her soul again; it was as if she felt on her lips the taste of dishonour.There was a moment during which, if she had turned and spoken, she would have said something that would hiss like a lash.But she closed her eyes, and then the hideous vision dropped.What remained was the cleverest woman in the world standing there within a few feet of her and knowing as little what to think as the meanest.Isabel's only revenge was to be silent still-to leave Madame Merle in this unprecedented situation.She left her there for a period that must have seemed long to this lady, who at last seated herself with a movement which was in itself a confession of helplessness.Then Isabel turned slow eyes, looking down at her.