and, as regards her appearance, it was plain she understood herself
and made the most of her points. Her attire, voluminous and delicate,
bristling with elegance, had the look of shimmering plumage, and her
attitudes were as light and sudden as those of a creature who perched
upon twigs. She had a great deal of manner; Isabel, who had never
known any one with so much manner, immediately classed her as the most
affected of women. She remembered that Ralph had not recommended her as
an acquaintance; but she was ready to acknowledge that to a casual view
the Countess Gemini revealed no depths. Her demonstrations suggested the
violent waving of some flag of general truce--white silk with fluttering
streamers.

"You'll believe I'm glad to see you when I tell you it's only because
I knew you were to be here that I came myself. I don't come and see my
brother--I make him come and see me. This hill of his is impossible--I
don't see what possesses him. Really, Osmond, you'll be the ruin of my
horses some day, and if it hurts them you'll have to give me another
pair. I heard them wheezing to-day; I assure you I did. It's very
disagreeable to hear one's horses wheezing when one's sitting in the
carriage; it sounds too as if they weren't what they should be. But
I've always had good horses; whatever else I may have lacked I've always
managed that. My husband doesn't know much, but I think he knows a
horse. In general Italians don't, but my husband goes in, according to
his poor light, for everything English. My horses are English--so it's
all the greater pity they should be ruined. I must tell you," she went
on, directly addressing Isabel, "that Osmond doesn't often invite me;
I don't think he likes to have me. It was quite my own idea, coming
to-day. I like to see new people, and I'm sure you're very new. But
don't sit there; that chair's not what it looks. There are some very
good seats here, but there are also some horrors."

These remarks were delivered with a series of little jerks and pecks, of
roulades of shrillness, and in an accent that was as some fond recall of
good English, or rather of good American, in adversity.

"I don't like to have you, my dear?" said her brother. "I'm sure you're
invaluable."

"I don't see any horrors anywhere," Isabel returned, looking about her.
"Everything seems to me beautiful and precious."

"I've a few good things," Mr. Osmond allowed; "indeed I've nothing very
bad. But I've not what