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James, Henry

"The Portrait Of A Lady"

"
"That's what I have done."
"Bon voyage then."
"You're in a great hurry to get rid of me," said his lordship
quite dismally.
"Not in the least. But I hate partings."
"You don't care what I do," he went on pitifully.
Isabel looked at him a moment. "Ah," she said, "you're not keeping
your promise!"
He coloured like a boy of fifteen. "If I'm not, then it's because
I can't; and that's why I'm going."
"Good-bye then."
"Good-bye." He lingered still, however. "When shall I see you
again?"
Isabel hesitated, but soon, as if she had had a happy inspiration:
"Some day after you're married."
"That will never be. It will be after you are."
"That will do as well," she smiled.
"Yes, quite as well. Good-bye."
They shook hands, and he left her alone in the glorious room,
among the shining antique marbles. She sat down in the centre of the
circle of these presences, regarding them vaguely, resting her eyes on
their beautiful blank faces; listening, as it were, to their eternal
silence. It is impossible, in Rome at least, to look long at a great
company of Greek sculptures without feeling the effect of their
noble quietude; which, as with a high door closed for the ceremony,
slowly drops on the spirit the large white mantle of peace.


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