symptoms of surprise which might not perhaps have seemed flattering to Mr. Osmond. It must be added, however, that these manifestations were momentary, and Ralph was presently able to say to his cousin, with due jocularity, that she would soon have all her friends about her. His greeting to Mr. Osmond was apparently frank; that is, the two men shook hands and looked at each other. Miss Stackpole had met the newcomer in Florence, but she had already found occasion to say to Isabel that she liked him no better than her other admirers—than Mr. Touchett, Lord Warburton, and little Mr. Rosier in Paris. "I don't know what it is in you," she had been pleased to remark, "but for a nice girl you do attract the most unpleasant people. Mr. Goodwood is the only one I have any respect for, and he's just the one you don't appreciate."
"What's your opinion of St. Peter's?" Mr. Osmond asked of Isabel.
"It's very large and very bright," said the girl.
"It's too large; it makes one feel like an atom."
"Is not that the right way to feel—in a church?" Isabel asked, with a faint but interested smile.
"I suppose it's the right way to feel everywhere, when one is nobody. But I like it in a church as little as anywhere else."
"You ought indeed to be a Pope!" Isabel exclaimed, remembering something he had said to her in Florence.
"Ah, I should have enjoyed that!" said Gilbert Osmond.
Lord Warburton meanwhile had joined Ralph Touchett, and the two strolled away together.
"Who is the gentleman speaking to Miss Archer?" his lordship inquired.
"His name is Gilbert Osmond—he lives in Florence," Ralph said.
