As for Osmond, hie has always appeared to believe that he is descended from the gods."
"You may say what you please," said Madame Merle, who had listened to this quick outbreak none the less attentively, we may believe, because her eye wandered away from the speaker, and her hands busied themselves with adjusting the knots of ribbon on her dress. "You Osmonds are a fine race—your blood must flow from some very pure source. Your brother, like an intelligent man, has had the conviction of it, if he has not had the proofs. You are modest about it, but you yourself are extremely distinguished. What do you say about your niece? The child's a little duchess. Nevertheless," Madame Merle added, "it will not be an easy matter for Osmond to marry Miss Archer. But he can try."
"I hope she will refuse him. It will take him down a little."
"We must not forget that he is one of the cleverest of men."
"I have heard you say that before; but I haven't yet discovered what he has done."
"What he has done? He has done nothing that has had to be undone. And he has known how to wait."
"To wait for Miss Archer's money? How much of it is there?"
"That's not what I mean," said Madame Merle. "Miss Archer has seventy thousand pounds."
"Well, it is a pity she is so nice," the Countess declared. "To be sacrificed, any girl would do. She needn't be superior."
"If she were not superior, your brother would never look at her. He must have the best."
"Yes," rejoined the Countess, as they went forward a little to meet the others, "he is very hard to please. That makes me fear for her happiness!"
