222 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. Pansy had on a scanty white dress, and her fair hair was neatly arranged in a net; she wore a pair of slippers, tied, sandal-fashion, about her ankles. She made Isabel a little conventual curtsey, and then came to be kissed. The Countess Gemini simply nodded, without getting up; Isabel could see that she was a woman of fashion. She was thin and dark, and not at all pretty, having features that suggested some tropical bird a long beak-like nose, a small, quickly-moving eye, and a mouth and chin that receded extremely. Her face, however, thanks to a very human and feminine expression, was by no means disagreeable, and, as regards her appearance, it was evident that she understood herself and made the most of her points. The soft brilliancy of her toilet had the look of shimmering plumage, and her attitudes were light and sudden, like those of a creature that perched upon twigs. She had a great deal of manner ; Isabel, who had never known any one with so much Inanner, immediately classified the Countess Gemini as the most affected of women. She remembered that Ealph had not recommended her as an acquaintance ; but she was ready to acknowledge that on a casual view the Countess presented no appearance of wickedness. Nothing could have been kinder or more innocent than her greeting to Isabel " You will believe that I am glad to see you when I tell you that it is only because I knew you were to be here that I came myself. I don't come and see my brother I make him come and see me. This hill of his is impossible I don't see what possesses him. Eeally, Osmond, you will be the ruin of my horses some day ; and if they receive an injury you will have to give me another pair. I heard them panting to-day ; I assure you I did. It is very disagreeable to hear one's horses panting when one is sitting in the carriage ; it sounds, too, as if they were not what they should be. But I have always had good horses; whatever else I may have lacked, I have always managed that. My husband doesn't know much, but I think he does know a horse. In general the Italians don't, but my husband goes in, according to his poor light, for every thing English. My horses are English so it is all the greater pity they should be ruined. I must tell you," she went on, directly addressing Isabel, " that Osmond doesn't often invite me ; I don't think he likes to have me. It was quite my own idea, coming to-day. I like to see new people, and I am sure you are very new. But don't sit there ; that chair is not what it looks. There are some very good seats here, but there are also some horrors." These remarks T 7 ere delivered with a variety of little jerks
