She never interrupted, never asked social
questions, and though she delighted in approbation, to the point of
turning pale when it came to her, never held out her hand for it.
She only looked toward it wistfully-an attitude which, as she grew
older, made her eyes the prettiest in the world. When during the
second winter at Palazzo Roccanera she began to go to parties, to
dances, she always, at a reasonable hour, lest Mrs. Osmond should be
tired, was the first to propose departure. Isabel appreciated the
sacrifice of the late dances, for she knew her little companion had
a passionate pleasure in this exercise, taking her steps to the
music like a conscientious fairy. Society, moreover, had no
drawbacks for her; she liked even the tiresome parts-the heat of
ball-rooms, the dulness of dinners, the crush at the door, the awkward
waiting for the carriage. During the day, in this vehicle, beside
her stepmother, she sat in a small fixed, appreciative posture,
bending forward and faintly smiling, as if she had been taken to drive
for the first time.
On the day I speak of they had been driven out of one of the gates
of the city and at the end of half an hour had left the carriage to
await them by the roadside while they walked away over the short grass
of the Campagna, which even in the winter months is sprinkled with
delicate flowers.
Pages:
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712