"To pay him a visit?"
"To go and see his view, his pictures, his daughter—I don't know exactly what. Madame Merle is to take me; she tells me a great many ladies call upon him."
"Ah, with Madame Merle you may go anywhere, de confiance," said Ralph. "She knows none but the best people."
Isabel said no more about Mr. Osmond, but she presently remarked to her cousin that she was not satisfied with his tone about Madame Merle. "It seems to me that you insinuate things about her. I don't know what you mean, but if you have any grounds for disliking her, I think you should either mention them frankly or else say nothing at all."
Ralph, however, resented this charge with more apparent earnestness than he commonly used. "I speak of Madame Merle exactly as I speak to her: with an even exaggerated respect."
"Exaggerated, precisely. That is what I complain of."
"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 cried with fervour. "If ever there was a woman who made small claims———"
"You put your finger on it," Ralph interrupted. "Her modesty is exaggerated. She has no business with small claims—she has a perfect right to make large ones."
"Her merits are large, then. You contradict yourself."
'Her merits are immense," said Ralph. "She is perfect; she is the only woman I know who has but that one little fault."
Isabel turned away with impatience. "I don't understand you; you are too paradoxical for my plain mind."
"Let me explain. When I say she exaggerates, I don't mean
