d up in the declaration that Rome, in short, was the Eternal City
and that Florence was simply a pretty little place like any other. The
Countess apparently needed to connect the idea of eternity with
her amusements. She was convinced that society was infinitely more
interesting in Rome, where you met celebrities all winter at evening
parties. At Florence there were no celebrities; none at least that one
had heard of. Since her brother's marriage her impatience had greatly
increased; she was so sure his wife had a more brilliant life than
herself. She was not so intellectual as Isabel, but she was intellectual
enough to do justice to Rome--not to the ruins and the catacombs, not
even perhaps to the monuments and museums, the church ceremonies and the
scenery; but certainly to all the rest. She heard a great deal about
her sister-in-law and knew perfectly that Isabel was having a beautiful
time. She had indeed seen it for herself on the only occasion on which
she had enjoyed the hospitality of Palazzo Roccanera. She had spent a
week there during the first winter of her brother's marriage, but she
had not been encouraged to renew this satisfaction. Osmond didn't want
her--that she was perfectly aware of; but she would have gone all the
same, for after all she didn't care two straws about Osmond. It was
her husband who wouldn't let her, and the money question was always
a trouble. Isabel had been very nice; the Countess, who had liked her
sister-in-law from the first, had not been blinded by envy to Isabel's
personal merits. She had always observed that she got on better with
clever women than with silly ones like herself; the silly ones could
never understand her wisdom, whereas the clever ones--the really
clever ones--always understood her silliness. It appeared to her that,
different as they were in appearance and general style, Isabel and she
had somewhere a patch of common ground that they would set their feet
upon at last. It was not very large, but it was firm, and they should
both know it when once they had really touched it. And then she lived,
with Mrs. Osmond, under the influence of a pleasant surprise; she was
constantly expecting that Isabel would "look down" on her, and she as
constantly saw this operation postponed. She asked herself when it would
begin, like fire-works, or Lent, or the opera season; not that she
cared much, but she wondered what kept it in abeyance. Her sister-in-law
regarded her with none bu