ld be injured.

CHAPTER XXIV

It would certainly have been hard to see what injury could arise to
her from the visit she presently paid to Mr. Osmond's hill-top. Nothing
could have been more charming than this occasion--a soft afternoon in
the full maturity of the Tuscan spring. The companions drove out of the
Roman Gate, beneath the enormous blank superstructure which crowns the
fine clear arch of that portal and makes it nakedly impressive, and
wound between high-walled lanes into which the wealth of blossoming
orchards over-drooped and flung a fragrance, until they reached the
small superurban piazza, of crooked shape, where the long brown wall of
the villa occupied in part by Mr. Osmond formed a principal, or at least
a very imposing, object. Isabel went with her friend through a wide,
high court, where a clear shadow rested below and a pair of light-arched
galleries, facing each other above, caught the upper sunshine upon their
slim columns and the flowering plants in which they were dressed. There
was something grave and strong in the place; it looked somehow as
if, once you were in, you would need an act of energy to get out. For
Isabel, however, there was of course as yet no thought of getting out,
but only of advancing. Mr. Osmond met her in the cold ante-chamber--it
was cold even in the month of May--and ushered her, with her
conductress, into the apartment to which we have already been
introduced. Madame Merle was in front, and while Isabel lingered a
little, talking with him, she went forward familiarly and greeted two
persons who were seated in the saloon. One of these was little Pansy, on
whom she bestowed a kiss; the other was a lady whom Mr. Osmond indicated
to Isabel as his sister, the Countess Gemini. "And that's my little
girl," he said, "who has just come out of her convent."

Pansy had on a scant white dress, and her fair hair was neatly arranged
in a net; she wore her small shoes tied sandal-fashion about her ankles.
She made Isabel a little conventual curtsey and then came to be kissed.
The Countess Gemini simply nodded without getting up: Isabel could see
she was a woman of high fashion. She was thin and dark and not at
all pretty, having features that suggested some tropical bird--a long
beak-like nose, small, quickly-moving eyes and a mouth and chin
that receded extremely. Her expression, however, thanks to various
intensities of emphasis and wonder, of horror and joy, was not inhuman,