"
"I know nothing about you but that you're a great musician,"
Isabel said to the visitor.
"There's a good deal more than that to know," Mrs. Touchett affirmed
in her little dry tone.
"A very little of it, I am sure, will content Miss Archer!" the lady
exclaimed with a light laugh. "I'm an old friend of your aunt's.
I've lived much in Florence. I'm Madame Merle." She made this last
announcement as if she were referring to a person of tolerably
distinct identity. For Isabel, however, it represented little; she
could only continue to feel that Madame Merle had as charming a manner
as any she had ever encountered.
"She's not a foreigner in spite of her name," said Mrs. Touchett.
"She was born- I always forget where you were born."
"It's hardly worth while then I should tell you."
"On the contrary," said Mrs. Touchett, who rarely missed a logical
point; "if I remembered your telling me would be quite superfluous."
Madame Merle glanced at Isabel with a sort of world-wide smile, a
thing that over-reached frontiers. "I was born under the shadow of the
national banner."
"She's too fond of mystery," said Mrs. Touchett; "that's her great
fault.
Pages:
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304