o any other plunge." Yet he felt even as he spoke how at that
instant he was plunging. He had made up his mind and was impatient to
get into the air; for his purpose was a purpose to be uttered outside,
and he had a fear that it might with delay still slip away from him.
She however took her time; she drew out their quiet gossip as if she
had wished to profit by their meeting, and this confirmed precisely an
interpretation of her manner, of her mystery. While she rose, as he
would have called it, to the question of Victor Hugo, her voice itself,
the light low quaver of her deference to the solemnity about them,
seemed to make her words mean something that they didn't mean openly.
Help, strength, peace, a sublime support--she hadn't found so much of
these things as that the amount wouldn't be sensibly greater for any
scrap his appearance of faith in her might enable her to feel in her
hand. Every little, in a long strain, helped, and if he happened to
affect her as a firm object she could hold on by, he wouldn't jerk
himself out of her reach. People in difficulties held on by what was
nearest, and he was perhaps after all not further off than sources of
comfort more abstract. It was as to this he had made up his mind; he
had made it up, that is, to give her a sign. The sign would be
that--though it was her own affair--he understood; the sign would be
that--though it was her own affair--she was free to clutch. Since she
took him for a firm object--much as he might to his own sense appear at
times to rock--he would do his best to BE one.

The end of it was that half an hour later they were seated together for
an early luncheon at a wonderful, a delightful house of entertainment
on the left bank--a place of pilgrimage for the knowing, they were both
aware, the knowing who came, for its great renown, the homage of
restless days, from the other end of the town. Strether had already
been there three times--first with Miss Gostrey, then with Chad, then
with Chad again and with Waymarsh and little Bilham, all of whom he had
himself sagaciously entertained; and his pleasure was deep now on
learning that Madame de Vionnet hadn't yet been initiated. When he had
said as they strolled round the church, by the river, acting at last on
what, within, he had made up his mind to, "Will you, if you have time,
come to dejeuner with me somewhere? For instance, if you know it, over
there on the other side, which is so easy a walk"--a