That was
very well; she would have gone with him even there a long distance;
for he pointed out to her so much of the baseness and shabbiness of
life, opened her eyes so wide to the stupidity, the depravity, the
ignorance of mankind, that she had been properly impressed with the
infinite vulgarity of things and of the virtue of keeping one's self
unspotted by it. But this base, ignoble world, it appeared, was
after all what one was to live for; one was to keep it for ever in
one's eye, in order not to enlighten or convert or redeem it, but to
extract from it some recognition of one's own superiority. On the
one hand it was despicable, but on the other it afforded a standard.
Osmond had talked to Isabel about his renunciation, his
indifference, the ease with which he dispensed with the usual aids
to success; and all this had seemed to her admirable. She had
thought it a grand indifference, an exquisite independence. But
indifference was really the last of his qualities; she had never
seen any one who thought so much of others. For herself, avowedly, the
world had always interested her and the study of her fellow
creatures been her constant passion.
Pages:
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753