In a less preoccupied frame of mind he could have done
justice to the Palazzo Roccanera; he could have entered into the
sentiment of Mrs. Osmond, who had once told him that on settling
themselves in Rome she and her husband had chosen this habitation
for the love of local colour. It had local colour enough, and though
he knew less about architecture than about Limoges enamels he could
see that the proportions of the windows and even the details of the
cornice had quite the grand air. But Rosier was haunted by the
conviction that at picturesque periods young girls had been shut up
there to keep them from their true loves, and then, under the threat
of being thrown into convents, had been forced into unholy
marriages. There was one point, however, to which he always did
justice when once he found himself in Mrs. Osmond's warm, rich-looking
reception-rooms, which were on the second floor. He acknowledged
that these people were very strong in "good things." It was a taste of
Osmond's own-not at all of hers; this she had told him the first
time he came to the house, when, after asking himself for a quarter of
an hour whether they had even better "French" than he in Paris, he was
obliged on the spot to admit that they had, very much, and
vanquished his envy, as a gentleman should, to the point of expressing
to his hostess his pure admiration of her treasures.
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