The Ambassadors Henry James (novel24 txt) đ
- Author: Henry James
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âI know,â said Waymarsh as manfully as possible, ânothing whatever about her private affairs; though I believe her to be acting in conformity with things that have my highest respect.â It was as manful as possible, but it was still the false noteâ âas it had to be to convey so sorry a statement. He knew everything, Strether more and more felt, that he thus disclaimed, and his little punishment was just in this doom to a second fib. What falser positionâ âgiven the manâ âcould the most vindictive mind impose? He ended by squeezing through a passage in which three months before he would certainly have stuck fast. âMrs. Pocock will probably be ready herself to answer any enquiry you may put to her. But,â he continued, âbutâ â!â He faltered on it.
âBut what? Donât put her too many?â
Waymarsh looked large, but the harm was done; he couldnât, do what he would, help looking rosy. âDonât do anything youâll be sorry for.â
It was an attenuation, Strether guessed, of something else that had been on his lips; it was a sudden drop to directness, and was thereby the voice of sincerity. He had fallen to the supplicating note, and that immediately, for our friend, made a difference and reinstated him. They were in communication as they had been, that first morning, in Sarahâs salon and in her presence and Madame de Vionnetâs; and the same recognition of a great good will was again, after all, possible. Only the amount of response Waymarsh had then taken for granted was doubled, decupled now. This came out when he presently said: âOf course I neednât assure you I hope youâll come with us.â Then it was that his implications and expectations loomed up for Strether as almost pathetically gross.
The latter patted his shoulder while he thanked him, giving the go-by to the question of joining the Pococks; he expressed the joy he felt at seeing him go forth again so brave and free, and he in fact almost took leave of him on the spot. âI shall see you again of course before you go; but Iâm meanwhile much obliged to you for arranging so conveniently for what youâve told me. I shall walk up and down in the court thereâ âdear little old court which weâve each bepaced so, this last couple of months, to the tune of our flights and our drops, our hesitations and our plunges: I shall hang about there, all impatience and excitement, please let Sarah know, till she graciously presents herself. Leave me with her without fear,â he laughed; âI assure you I shanât hurt her. I donât think either sheâll hurt me: Iâm in a situation in which damage was some time ago discounted. Besides, that isnât what worries youâ âbut donât, donât explain! Weâre all right as we are: which was the degree of success our adventure was pledged to for each of us. We werenât, it seemed, all right as we were before; and weâve got over the ground, all things considered, quickly. I hope youâll have a lovely time in the Alps.â
Waymarsh fairly looked up at him as from the foot of them. âI donât know as I ought really to go.â
It was the conscience of Milrose in the very voice of Milrose, but, oh it was feeble and flat! Strether suddenly felt quite ashamed for him; he breathed a greater boldness. âLet yourself, on the contrary, goâ âin all agreeable directions. These are precious hoursâ âat our age they maynât recur. Donât have it to say to yourself at Milrose, next winter, that you hadnât courage for them.â And then as his comrade queerly stared: âLive up to Mrs. Pocock.â
âLive up to her?â
âYouâre a great help to her.â
Waymarsh looked at it as at one of the uncomfortable things that were certainly true and that it was yet ironical to say. âItâs more then than you are.â
âThatâs exactly your own chance and advantage. Besides,â said Strether, âI do in my way contribute. I know what Iâm about.â
Waymarsh had kept on his great panama, and, as he now stood nearer the door, his last look beneath the shade of it had turned again to darkness and warning. âSo do I! See here, Strether.â
âI know what youâre going to say. âQuit thisâ?â
âQuit this!â But it lacked its old intensity; nothing of it remained; it went out of the room with him.
IIIAlmost the first thing, strangely enough, that, about an hour later, Strether found himself doing in Sarahâs presence was to remark articulately on this failure, in their friend, of what had been superficially his great distinction. It was as ifâ âhe alluded of course to the grand mannerâ âthe dear man had sacrificed it to some other advantage; which would be of course only for himself to measure. It might be simply that he was physically so much more sound than on his first coming out; this was all prosaic, comparatively cheerful and vulgar. And fortunately, if one came to that, his improvement in health was really itself grander than any manner it could be conceived as having cost him. âYou yourself alone, dear Sarahââ âStrether took the plungeâ ââhave done him, it strikes me, in these three weeks, as much good as all the rest of his time together.â
It was a plunge because somehow the range of reference was, in the conditions, âfunny,â and made funnier still by
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