fess I've
been rather indiscreet--I ought to have asked your permission." There
was none of the oblique movement of irony in this; it was said simply
and mildly; but Isabel, far afloat on a sea of wonder and pain, could
not have told herself with what intention it was uttered. "But I've not
been sitting long," Madame Merle continued; "that is I've not been long
with Pansy. I came to see her because it occurred to me this afternoon
that she must be rather lonely and perhaps even a little miserable.
It may be good for a small girl; I know so little about small girls; I
can't tell. At any rate it's a little dismal. Therefore I came--on the
chance. I knew of course that you'd come, and her father as well;
still, I had not been told other visitors were forbidden. The good
woman--what's her name? Madame Catherine--made no objection whatever. I
stayed twenty minutes with Pansy; she has a charming little room, not
in the least conventual, with a piano and flowers. She has arranged
it delightfully; she has so much taste. Of course it's all none of my
business, but I feel happier since I've seen her. She may even have a
maid if she likes; but of course she has no occasion to dress. She wears
a little black frock; she looks so charming. I went afterwards to see
Mother Catherine, who has a very good room too; I assure you I don't
find the poor sisters at all monastic. Mother Catherine has a most
coquettish little toilet-table, with something that looked uncommonly
like a bottle of eau-de-Cologne. She speaks delightfully of Pansy; says
it's a great happiness for them to have her. She's a little saint of
heaven and a model to the oldest of them. Just as I was leaving Madame
Catherine the portress came to say to her that there was a lady for the
signorina. Of course I knew it must be you, and I asked her to let me
go and receive you in her place. She demurred greatly--I must tell you
that--and said it was her duty to notify the Mother Superior; it was
of such high importance that you should be treated with respect. I
requested her to let the Mother Superior alone and asked her how she
supposed I would treat you!"

So Madame Merle went on, with much of the brilliancy of a woman who had
long been a mistress of the art of conversation. But there were phases
and gradations in her speech, not one of which was lost upon Isabel's
ear, though her eyes were absent from her companion's face. She had not
proceeded far before Isabel noted a sudde