Her old habit had
been to live by enthusiasm, to fall in love with suddenly-perceived
possibilities, with the idea of some new adventure. As a younger
person she had been used to proceed from one little exaltation to
the other: there were scarcely any dull places between. But Madame
Merle had suppressed enthusiasm; she fell in love now-a-days with
nothing; she lived entirely by reason and by wisdom. There were
hours when Isabel would have given anything for lessons in this art;
if her brilliant friend had been near she would have made an appeal to
her. She had become aware more than before of the advantage of being
like that-of having made one's self a firm surface, a sort of corselet
of silver.
But, as I say, it was not till the winter during which we lately
renewed acquaintance with our heroine that the personage in question
made again a continuous stay in Rome. Isabel now saw more of her
than she had done since her marriage; but by this time Isabel's
needs and inclinations had considerably changed. It was not at present
to Madame Merle that she would have applied for instruction; she had
lost the desire to know this lady's clever trick.
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