She told
Gilbert Osmond that she had done so, and he replied that, spending
many of his summers as well as his winters in Italy, he himself
would loiter a little longer in the cool shadow of Saint Peter's. He
would not return to Florence for ten days more, and in that time she
would have started for Bellaggio. It might be months in this case
before he should see her again. This exchange took place in the
large decorated sitting-room occupied by our friends at the hotel;
it was late in the evening, and Ralph Touchett was to take his
cousin back to Florence on the morrow. Osmond had found the girl
alone; Miss Stackpole had contracted a friendship with a delightful
American family on the fourth floor and had mounted the interminable
staircase to pay them a visit. Henrietta contracted friendships, in
travelling, with great freedom, and had formed in railway-carriages
several that were among her most valued ties. Ralph was making
arrangements for the morrow's journey, and Isabel sat alone in a
wilderness of yellow upholstery. The chairs and sofas were orange; the
walls and windows were draped in purple and gilt. The mirrors, the
pictures had great flamboyant frames; the ceiling was deeply vaulted
and painted over with naked muses and cherubs.
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