I'm thought a great scatterbrain, but I've had enough application of mind to follow up those two.She hates me, and her way of showing it is to pretend to be for ever defending me.When people say I've had fifteen lovers she looks horrified and declares that quite half of them were never proved.She has been afraid of me for years, and she has taken great comfort in the vile, false things people have said about me.She has been afraid I'd expose her, and she threatened me one day when Osmond began to pay his court to you.It was at his house in Florence; do you remember that afternoon when she brought you there and we had tea in the garden? She let me know then that if I should tell tales two could play at that game.She pretends there's a good deal more to tell about me than about her.It would be an interesting comparison! I don't care a fig about what she may say, simply because I know you don't care a fig.You can't trouble your head about me less than you do already.So she may take her revenge as she chooses; I don't think she'll frighten you very much.Her great idea has been to be tremendously irreproachable-a kind of full-blown lily-the incarnation of propriety.She has always worshipped that god.
There should be no scandal about Caesar's wife, you know; and, as Isay, she has always hoped to marry Caesar.That was one reason she wouldn't marry Osmond; the fear that on seeing her with Pansy people would put things together-would even see a resemblance.She has had a terror lest the mother should betray herself.She has been awfully careful; the mother has never done so.""Yes, yes, the mother has done so," said Isabel, who had listened to all this with a face more and more wan."She betrayed herself to me the other day, though I didn't recognize her.There appeared to have been a chance of Pansy's making a great marriage, and in her disappointment at its not coming off she almost dropped the mask.""Ah, that's where she'd dish herself!" cried the Countess."She has failed so dreadfully that she's determined her daughter shall make it up."Isabel started at the words "her daughter," which her guest threw off so familiarly."It seems very wonderful," she murmured; and in this bewildering impression she had almost lost her sense of being personally touched by the story.
"Now don't go and turn against the poor innocent child!" the Countess went on."She's very nice, in spite of her deplorable origin.
I myself have liked Pansy; not, naturally, because she was hers, but because she had become yours.""Yes, she has become mine.And how the poor woman must have suffered at seeing me-!" Isabel exclaimed while she flushed at the thought.
"I don't believe she has suffered; on the contrary, she has enjoyed.
Osmond's marriage has given his daughter a great little lift.Before that she lived in a hole.And do you know what the mother thought?
That you might take such a fancy to the child that you'd do something for her.Osmond of course could never give her a portion.
Osmond was really extremely poor; but of course you know all about that.Ah, my dear," cried the Countess, "why did you ever inherit money?" She stopped a moment as if she saw something singular in Isabel's face."Don't tell me now that you'll give her a dot.You're capable of that, but I would refuse to believe it.Don't try to be too good.Be a little easy and natural and nasty; feel a little wicked, for the comfort of it, once in your life!""It's very strange.I suppose I ought to know, but I'm sorry,"Isabel said."I'm much obliged to you."
"Yes, you seem to be!" cried the Countess with a mocking laugh.
"Perhaps you are-perhaps you're not.You don't take it as I should have thought.""How should I take it?" Isabel asked.
"Well, I should say as a woman who has been made use of" Isabel made no answer to this; she only listened, and the Countess went on.
"They've always been bound to each other; they remained so even after she broke off-or he did.But he has always been more for her than she has been for him.When their little carnival was over they made a bargain that each should give the other complete liberty, but that each should also do everything possible to help the other on.You may ask me how I know such a thing as that.I know it by the way they've behaved.Now see how much better women are than men! She has found a wife for Osmond, but Osmond has never lifted a little finger for her.She has worked for him, plotted for him, suffered for him;she has even more than once found money for him; and the end of it is that he's tired of her.She's an old habit; there are moments when he needs her, but on the whole he wouldn't miss her if she were removed.And, what's more, to-day she knows it.So you needn't be jealous!" the Countess added humorously.
Isabel rose from her sofa again; she felt bruised and scant of breath; her head was humming with new knowledge."I'm much obliged to you," she repeated.And then she added abruptly, in quite a different tone: "How do you know all this?"This enquiry appeared to ruffle the Countess more than Isabel's expression of gratitude pleased her.She gave her companion a bold stare, with which, "Let us assume that I've invented it!" she cried.
She too, however, suddenly changed her tone and, laying her hand on Isabel's arm, said with the penetration of her sharp bright smile:
"Now will you give up your journey?"
Isabel started a little; she turned away.But she felt weak and in a moment had to lay her arm upon the mantel-shelf for support.She stood a minute so, and then upon her arm she dropped her dizzy head, with closed eyes and pale lips.
"I've done wrong to speak-I've made you ill!" the Countess cried.
"Ah, I must see Ralph!" Isabel wailed; not in resentment, not in the quick passion her companion had looked for; but in a tone of far-reaching, infinite sadness.
