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Updated: June 23, 2025
"I do so because Madame Merle's merits are exaggerated." "By whom, pray? By me? If so I do her a poor service." "No, no; by herself." "Ah, I protest!" Isabel earnestly cried. "If ever there was a woman who made small claims !" "You put your finger on it," Ralph interrupted. "Her modesty's exaggerated. She has no business with small claims she has a perfect right to make large ones."
There were other people present; the Countess's drawing-room was usually well filled, and the talk had been general, but after a while Osmond left his place and came and sat on an ottoman half-behind, half-beside Madame Merle's chair. "She wants me to go to Rome with her," he remarked in a low voice. "To go with her?" "To be there while she's there. She proposed it.
Madame Merle's hands were clasped in her lap; at this she raised them, still clasped, and held them a moment against her bosom while her eyes, a little dilated, fixed themselves on those of her friend. "Ah," she cried, "the clever creature!" Mrs. Touchett gave her a quick look. "What do you mean by that?" For an instant Madame Merle's colour rose and she dropped her eyes.
Of course, too, she knew how to feel; Isabel couldn't have spent a week with her without being sure of that. This was indeed Madame Merle's great talent, her most perfect gift.
It was a year since she had been here last, with Hilda in her first grief for her mother's death; and everywhere she found traces of Jean Merle's handiwork. The half-shaped blocks of wood, left unfinished for years in her father's workshop, were completed.
The little pathway trodden by Jean Merle's feet was overgrown, though still perceptible, and the priest walked along it, with Felicita following him. Little threads of grass were filling up the deep clear-cut lettering on the cross; and the gray and yellow lichens were creeping over the granite.
He ran himself to fetch the postilion, returning with all speed, and, as he repassed Merle's body, he noticed the Gars' glove, which was still convulsively clasped in the dead hand. "Oho!" he cried. "Pille-Miche has blundered horribly he won't live to spend his crowns."
But now that she's got here, I should think she'd be sick of it." "I suppose `servant' there, means pretty much what `help' does here. There don't seem to be difference enough to talk about," said Rebecca. "I see considerable difference," said Mrs Merle's young lady. "It beats all," said another. Yes, it did beat all.
"My dear," she then observed to her companion, "you'll excuse me if I don't congratulate you!" "Very willingly, for I don't in the least know why you should." "Haven't you a little plan that you think rather well of?" And the Countess nodded at the sequestered couple. Madame Merle's eyes took the same direction; then she looked serenely at her neighbour.
Marian had no thought of sorrowful things in her heart now. They came home again the other way, past Judge Merle's and the school-house, singing and laughing in a way that made the sober-minded boys and girls of Merleville, to whom sleigh-riding was no novelty, turn round in astonishment as they passed.
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