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Updated: June 4, 2025
"I've been supposing I see just the opposite an extraordinary case of the equilibrium arrived at and assured." "Oh there's a lot behind it." "Ah there you are!" Strether exclaimed. "That's just what I want to get at. You speak of your familiar volume altered out of recognition. Well, who's the editor?" Little Bilham looked before him a minute in silence. "He ought to get married. THAT would do it.
Strether did him the justice. "I dare say not." "Well," said little Bilham, "you're not a person to whom it's easy to tell things you don't want to know. Though it is easy, I admit it's quite beautiful," he benevolently added, "when you do want to." Strether looked at him with an indulgence that matched his intelligence.
"Yet wasn't her whole point" Strether weighed it "that he was to be, that he COULD be, made better, redeemed?" Little Bilham fixed it all a moment, and then with a small headshake that diffused a tenderness: "She's too late. Too late for the miracle." "Yes" his companion saw enough. "Still, if the worst fault of his condition is that it may be all there for her to profit by ?"
He describes the deep and agitating effect of the scene upon him, calling to him of the world he has missed; he tells what he thought and felt; and then, he says, I broke out with the following tirade to little Bilham and we have the energetic outburst which Henry James has put into his mouth. But is it not clear how the incident would be weakened, so rendered?
She rose and began to make some little arrangement for her mother's comfort, and presently the servant came to ask if she would take some tea. "I'm sure, miss, you must be faint for want of food, and we are just going to have some the woman and me." "What woman?" "A very respectable person as Dr. Bilham sent in to to attend to the poor old gentleman, miss." "Ah! thank you.
And Strether, with his head back and his eyes on the ceiling, seemed to lose himself in the vision of it. His companion attended deeply. "You state it much better than I could." "Oh you see it doesn't concern you." Little Bilham considered. "I thought you said just now that it doesn't concern you either." "Well, it doesn't a bit as Madame de Vionnet's affair.
Strether occupied beside little Bilham, three evenings after his interview with Mamie Pocock, the same deep divan they had enjoyed together on the first occasion of our friend's meeting Madame de Vionnet and her daughter in the apartment of the Boulevard Malesherbes, where his position affirmed itself again as ministering to an easy exchange of impressions.
"I know if we talk of that whom I should enjoy being like!" Little Bilham followed his eyes; but then as with a shade of knowing surprise: "Gloriani?" Our friend had in fact already hesitated, though not on the hint of his companion's doubt, in which there were depths of critical reserve.
"What in the name of all the Pococks have you managed to do?" "Why exactly the wrong thing. I've made a frantic friend of little Bilham." "Ah that sort of thing was of the essence of your case and to have been allowed for from the first." And it was only after this that, quite as a minor matter, she asked who in the world little Bilham might be.
We're all looking at each other and in the light of Paris one sees what things resemble. That's what the light of Paris seems always to show. It's the fault of the light of Paris dear old light!" "Dear old Paris!" little Bilham echoed. "Everything, every one shows," Miss Barrace went on. "But for what they really are?" Strether asked. "Oh I like your Boston 'reallys'! But sometimes yes."
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