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Updated: June 7, 2025
Chad stared, then gave a laugh. "And isn't my signal to start just what you've been waiting for?" Strether debated; he took another turn. "This last month I've been awaiting, I think, more than anything else, the message I have here." "You mean you've been afraid of it?" "Well, I was doing my business in my own way.
Strether was conscious across the table of what worked in him, conscious when they passed back to the small salon to which, the previous evening, he himself had made so rich a reference; conscious most of all as they stepped out to the balcony in which one would have had to be an ogre not to recognise the perfect place for easy aftertastes.
"Oh he's giving himself up, and he'll do so to the end. How can he but want, now that it's within reach, his full impression? which is much more important, you know, than either yours or mine. But he's just soaking," Strether said as he came back; "he's going in conscientiously for a saturation. I'm bound to say he IS very good." "Ah," she quietly replied, "to whom do you say it?"
The remark had been at first surprising and our friend's private thought, under the influence of it, temporarily blighted; yet we are able to add that he presently recovered his inward tone and that many a fresh flower of fancy was to bloom in the same air. Little Bilham since little Bilham was, somewhat incongruously, expected appeared behindhand; a circumstance by which Strether was to profit.
And yet it's always as charming as this; it's as if, by something in the air, our squalor didn't show. It puts us all back into the last century." "I'm afraid," Strether said, amused, "that it puts me rather forward: oh ever so far!" "Into the next? But isn't that only," little Bilham asked, "because you're really of the century before?" "The century before the last? Thank you!" Strether laughed.
Chad, looking about with careless and competent criticism, as he looked wherever he went immediately espied it and permitted himself to fix it for a moment rather hard. After which he turned his eyes to his host. "It has come then at last?" Strether paused in the act of pinning his necktie. "Then you know ? You've had one too?" "No, I've had nothing, and I only know what I see.
But what, my dear man," Chad went on with conscious queerness, "does it all lead to for you?" The change of position and of relation, for each, was so oddly betrayed in the question that Chad laughed out as soon as he had uttered it which made Strether also laugh. "Well, to my having a certitude that has been tested that has passed through the fire.
The little waxed salle-a-manger was sallow and sociable; Francois, dancing over it, all smiles, was a man and a brother; the high-shouldered patronne, with her high-held, much-rubbed hands, seemed always assenting exuberantly to something unsaid; the Paris evening in short was, for Strether, in the very taste of the soup, in the goodness, as he was innocently pleased to think it, of the wine, in the pleasant coarse texture of the napkin and the crunch of the thick-crusted bread.
I hope you'll have a lovely time in the Alps." Waymarsh fairly looked up at him as from the foot of them. "I don't know as I OUGHT really to go." It was the conscience of Milrose in the very voice of Milrose, but, oh it was feeble and flat! Strether suddenly felt quite ashamed for him; he breathed a greater boldness. "LET yourself, on the contrary, go in all agreeable directions.
She had apparently put him a question, to which he had replied by turning to indicate his late interlocutor; toward whom, after an interrogation further aided by a resort to that optical machinery which seemed, like her other ornaments, curious and archaic, the genial lady, suggesting more than ever for her fellow guest the old French print, the historic portrait, directed herself with an intention that Strether instantly met.
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