The Ambassadors Henry James (novel24 txt) 📖

wasn’t waiting to see anyone. I had only waited, till now, to make up my mind⁠—in complete solitude; and, since I of course absolutely owe you the information, was on the point of going out with it quite made up. Have therefore a little more patience with me. Remember,” Strether went on, “that that’s what you originally asked me to have. I’ve had it, you see, and you see what has come of it. Stay on with me.”

Chad looked grave. “How much longer?”

“Well, till I make you a sign. I can’t myself, you know, at the best, or at the worst, stay forever. Let the Pococks come,” Strether repeated.

“Because it gains you time?”

“Yes⁠—it gains me time.”

Chad, as if it still puzzled him, waited a minute. “You don’t want to get back to Mother?”

“Not just yet. I’m not ready.”

“You feel,” Chad asked in a tone of his own, “the charm of life over here?”

“Immensely.” Strether faced it. “You’ve helped me so to feel it that that surely needn’t surprise you.”

“No, it doesn’t surprise me, and I’m delighted. But what, my dear man,” Chad went on with conscious queerness, “does it all lead to for you?”

The change of position and of relation, for each, was so oddly betrayed in the question that Chad laughed out as soon as he had uttered it⁠—which made Strether also laugh. “Well, to my having a certitude that has been tested⁠—that has passed through the fire. But oh,” he couldn’t help breaking out, “if within my first month here you had been willing to move with me⁠—!”

“Well?” said Chad, while he broke down as for weight of thought.

“Well, we should have been over there by now.”

“Ah but you wouldn’t have had your fun!”

“I should have had a month of it; and I’m having now, if you want to know,” Strether continued, “enough to last me for the rest of my days.”

Chad looked amused and interested, yet still somewhat in the dark; partly perhaps because Strether’s estimate of fun had required of him from the first a good deal of elucidation. “It wouldn’t do if I left you⁠—?”

“Left me?”⁠—Strether remained blank.

“Only for a month or two⁠—time to go and come. Madame de Vionnet,” Chad smiled, “would look after you in the interval.”

“To go back by yourself, I remaining here?” Again for an instant their eyes had the question out; after which Strether said: “Grotesque!”

“But I want to see Mother,” Chad presently returned. “Remember how long it is since I’ve seen Mother.”

“Long indeed; and that’s exactly why I was originally so keen for moving you. Hadn’t you shown us enough how beautifully you could do without it?”

“Oh but,” said Chad wonderfully, “I’m better now.”

There was an easy triumph in it that made his friend laugh out again. “Oh if you were worse I should know what to do with you. In that case I believe I’d have you gagged and strapped down, carried on board resisting, kicking. How much,” Strether asked, “do you want to see Mother?”

“How much?”⁠—Chad seemed to find it in fact difficult to say.

“How much.”

“Why as much as you’ve made me. I’d give anything to see her. And you’ve left me,” Chad went on, “in little enough doubt as to how much she wants it.”

Strether thought a minute. “Well then if those things are really your motive catch the French steamer and sail tomorrow. Of course, when it comes to that, you’re absolutely free to do as you choose. From the moment you can’t hold yourself I can only accept your flight.”

“I’ll fly in a minute then,” said Chad, “if you’ll stay here.”

“I’ll stay here till the next steamer⁠—then I’ll follow you.”

“And do you call that,” Chad asked, “accepting my flight?”

“Certainly⁠—it’s the only thing to call it. The only way to keep me here, accordingly,” Strether explained, “is by staying yourself.”

Chad took it in. “All the more that I’ve really dished you, eh?”

“Dished me?” Strether echoed as inexpressively as possible.

“Why if she sends out the Pococks it will be that she doesn’t trust you, and if she doesn’t trust you, that bears upon⁠—well, you know what.”

Strether decided after a moment that he did know what, and in consonance with this he spoke. “You see then all the more what you owe me.”

“Well, if I do see, how can I pay?”

“By not deserting me. By standing by me.”

“Oh I say⁠—!” But Chad, as they went downstairs, clapped a firm hand, in the manner of a pledge, upon his shoulder. They descended slowly together and had, in the court of the hotel, some further talk, of which the upshot was that they presently separated. Chad Newsome departed, and Strether, left alone, looked about, superficially, for Waymarsh. But Waymarsh hadn’t yet, it appeared, come down, and our friend finally went forth without sight of him.

III

At four o’clock that afternoon he had still not seen him, but he was then, as to make up for this, engaged in talk about him with Miss Gostrey. Strether had kept away from home all day, given himself up to the town and to his thoughts, wandered and mused, been at once restless and absorbed⁠—and all with the present climax of a rich little welcome in the Quartier Marbœuf. “Waymarsh has been, ‘unbeknown’ to me, I’m convinced”⁠—for Miss Gostrey had enquired⁠—“in communication with Woollett: the consequence of which was, last night, the loudest possible call for me.”

“Do you mean a letter to bring you home?”

“No⁠—a cable, which I have at this moment in my pocket: a ‘Come back by the first ship.’ ”

Strether’s hostess, it might have been made out, just escaped changing colour. Reflection arrived but in time and established a provisional serenity. It was perhaps exactly this that enabled her to say with duplicity: “And you’re going⁠—?”

“You almost deserve it when you abandon me so.”

She shook her head as if this were not worth taking up. “My absence has helped you⁠—as I’ve only to look at you to see. It was my calculation, and I’m justified. You’re