The other rooms meanwhile had become conscious of the arrival of Madame Merle, who, wherever she went, produced an impression when she entered.How she did it the most attentive spectator could not have told you, for she neither spoke loud, nor laughed profusely, nor moved rapidly, nor dressed with splendour, nor appealed in any appreciable manner to the audience.Large, fair, smiling, serene, there was something in her very tranquillity that diffused itself, and when people looked around it was because of a sudden quiet.On this occasion she had done the quietest thing she could do; after embracing Mrs.Osmond, which was more striking, she had sat down on a small sofa to commune with the master of the house.There was a brief exchange of commonplaces between these two-they always paid, in public, a certain formal tribute to the commonplace-and then Madame Merle, whose eyes had been wandering, asked if little Mr.Rosier had come this evening.
"He came nearly an hour ago-but he has disappeared," Osmond said.
"And where's Pansy?"
"In the other room.There are several people there.""He's probably among them," said Madame Merle.
"Do you wish to see him?" Osmond asked in a provokingly pointless tone.
Madame Merle looked at him a moment; she knew each of his tones to the eighth of a note."Yes, I should like to say to him that I've told you what he wants, and that it interests you but feebly.""Don't tell him that.He'll try to interest me more-which is exactly what I don't want.Tell him I hate his proposal.""But you don't hate it."
"It doesn't signify; I don't love it.I let him see that, myself, this evening; I was rude to him on purpose.That sort of thing's a great bore.There's no hurry.""I'll tell him that you'll take time and think it over.""No, don't do that.He'll hang on."
"If I discourage him he'll do the same."
"Yes, but in the one case he'll try to talk and explain-which would be exceedingly tiresome.In the other he'll probably hold his tongue and go in for some deeper game.That will leave me quiet.Ihate talking with a donkey."
"Is that what you call poor Mr.Rosier?"
"Oh, he's a nuisance-with his eternal majolica."Madame Merle dropped her eyes; she had a faint smile."He's a gentleman, he has a charming temper; and, after all, an income of forty thousand francs!""It's misery-'genteel' misery," Osmond broke in."It's not what I've dreamed of for Pansy.""Very good then.He has promised me not to speak to her.""Do you believe him?" Osmond asked absent-mindedly.
"Perfectly.Pansy has thought a great deal about him; but I don't suppose you consider that that matters.""I don't consider it matters at all; but neither do I believe she has thought of him.""That opinion's more convenient," said Madame Merle quietly.
"Has she told you she's in love with him?""For what do you take her? And for what do you take me?" Madame Merle added in a moment.
Osmond had raised his foot and was resting his slim ankle on the other knee; he clasped his ankle in his hand familiarly-his long, fine forefinger and thumb could make a ring for it-and gazed a while before him."This kind of thing doesn't find me unprepared.It's what Ieducated her for.It was all for this-that when such a case should come up she should do what I prefer.""I'm not afraid that she'll not do it."
"Well then, where's the hitch?"
"I don't see any.But, all the same, I recommend you not to get rid of Mr.
Rosier.Keep him on hand; he may be useful.""I can't keep him.Keep him yourself."
