RODERICK HUDSON
and joined his mother in bidding good-night to Madame Grandoni. Christina in a moment met Rowland's eyes and immediately beckoned him to come to her. He was familiar with her peremptory way and was not particularly surprised. She made a place for him on the sofa beside her; he wondered what was coming now. He was not sure it was not a mere fancy, but it seemed to him that he had never seen her look just as she was looking then. There was a high mildness, a sweetness of humility in it which threw into relief the rare nature, the strange life and play, of her beauty. "How many more metamorphoses," he asked himself, "am I to be treated to before we have done?"
"I want to tell you," said Christina, "I 've such a beautiful impression of Miss Garland. Are n't you glad?"
"Quite overjoyed, madam," Rowland returned.
She kept her eyes on him. "Ah, I see you don't believe a word of it!"
"Is it so hard to believe?"
"Not that people in general should admire her, but that I should. I 'm not good enough—that 's what you feel. But I want to tell you; I want to tell some one; I can't tell Miss Garland herself. She regards me already as a horrid false creature, and if I were to express to her frankly what I think of her I should simply disgust her. She would be quite right; she has Repose, and from that point of view I and my doings must seem monstrous. Unfortunately I have n't Repose—ah, what would n't I give for it! I 'm trembling now; if I could ask you to feel
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