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Updated: June 8, 2025
Poor Rosier's face assumed an expression of alarm; a suit for the hand of Pansy Osmond was even a more complicated business than his taste for proper transitions had allowed. But the extreme good sense which he concealed under a surface suggesting that of a careful owner's "best set" came to his assistance. "I don't see that I'm bound to consider Mr. Osmond so very much!" he exclaimed.
In a palace, too, little Pansy lived a palace by Roman measure, but a dungeon to poor Rosier's apprehensive mind.
In the meantime Lady N , who had been warmly interested in Mad. de Rosier's favour, and more by what she had seen of her pupils, wrote to her brother, who was at Paris, to request that he would make every possible inquiry concerning the property of the late Comte de Rosier.
Harcourt: "why, Mad. de Rosier, this is the boy who could neither read nor spell six months ago. Will you be my messenger?" added she, putting a card into Mad. de Rosier's hand, which she had written with rapidity: "Mrs. Harcourt's love to her dear little Herbert; if she had a hundred other invitations, she would accept of his." "Bless me!" said Mrs.
Rosier's not unlimited." "No," said Isabel, "he has about the extent of one's pocket-handkerchief the small ones with lace borders." Her humour had lately turned a good deal to sarcasm, but in a moment she was ashamed of exercising it on so innocent an object as Pansy's suitor. "He's very kind, very honest," she presently added; "and he's not such a fool as he seems."
She looked at him, as she drew her needle through her tapestry, with sweet submissive eyes, and when she lowered them she gave little quiet oblique glances at his person, his hands, his feet, his clothes, as if she were considering him. Even his person, Isabel might have reminded her, was better than Mr. Rosier's.
Mad. de Rosier started up; and Matilda, surprised at her sudden emotion, put the box and magnifying glass into her hand. Madame de Rosier's hand trembled so much that she could not fix the glass. "Je ne vois rien lisez vite! ma chere amie un mot de plus!" said she, putting the glass again into Matilda's hand, and leaning over her shoulder with a look of agonizing expectation.
"It was I who was reading, mamma," said Isabella, pointing to the place over Mad. de Rosier's shoulder Une femme douce et sage A toujours tant d'avantage! Elle a pour elle en partage L'agrement, et la raison." "Isabella," said Mrs. Harcourt, from whom a scarcely audible sigh had escaped "Isabella really reads French almost as well as she does English."
Osmond having an "evening" she had taken the Thursday of each week when his presence could be accounted for on general principles of civility. The object of Mr. Rosier's well-regulated affection dwelt in a high house in the very heart of Rome; a dark and massive structure overlooking a sunny piazzetta in the neighbourhood of the Farnese Palace.
Miss Fanshaw had now resumed her company face and attitude; she sat in prudent silence, whilst Lady N addressed her conversation to Isabella and Matilda, whose thoughts did not seem to be totally engrossed by their own persons. Dr. X had prepared this lady to think favourably of Mad. de Rosier's pupils, by the account which he had given her of Isabella's remarks upon Zeluco.
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