But a
moment's reflexion assured her that she would do well not to betray to
the worthy nun her desire to avoid Pansy's other friend. Her companion
grasped her arm very gently and, fixing her a moment with wise,
benevolent eyes, said in French and almost familiarly: "Eh, bien,
chere Madame, qu'en pensez-vous?"
"About my step-daughter? Oh, it would take long to tell you."
"We think it's enough," Madame Catherine distinctly observed. And
she pushed open the door of the parlour.
Madame Merle was sitting just as Isabel had left her, like a woman
so absorbed in thought that she had not moved a little finger. As
Madame Catherine closed the door she got up, and Isabel saw that she
had been thinking to some purpose. She had recovered her balance;
she was in full possession of her resources. "I found I wished to wait
for you," she said urbanely. "But it's not to talk about Pansy."
Isabel wondered what it could be to talk about, and in spite of
Madame Merle's declaration she answered after a moment: "Madame
Catherine says it's enough."
"Yes; it also seems to me enough. I wanted to ask you another word
about poor Mr. Touchett," Madame Merle added.
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