or Strether's
benefit not less than for her own.

"HAVE you?" Strether, scarce knowing what he was about, asked of her
almost eagerly.

"Oh not a distinction"--she was mightily amused at his tone--"Mr.
Bilham's too good. But I think I may say a sufficiency. Yes, a
sufficiency. Have you supposed strange things of me?"--and she fixed
him again, through all her tortoise-shell, with the droll interest of
it. "You ARE all indeed wonderful. I should awfully disappoint you. I
do take my stand on my sufficiency. But I know, I confess," she went
on, "strange people. I don't know how it happens; I don't do it on
purpose; it seems to be my doom--as if I were always one of their
habits: it's wonderful! I dare say moreover," she pursued with an
interested gravity, "that I do, that we all do here, run too much to
mere eye. But how can it be helped? We're all looking at each
other--and in the light of Paris one sees what things resemble. That's
what the light of Paris seems always to show. It's the fault of the
light of Paris--dear old light!"

"Dear old Paris!" little Bilham echoed.

"Everything, every one shows," Miss Barrace went on.

"But for what they really are?" Strether asked.

"Oh I like your Boston 'reallys'! But sometimes--yes."

"Dear old Paris then!" Strether resignedly sighed while for a moment
they looked at each other. Then he broke out: "Does Madame de Vionnet
do that? I mean really show for what she is?"

Her answer was prompt. "She's charming. She's perfect."

"Then why did you a minute ago say 'Oh, oh, oh!' at her name?"

She easily remembered. "Why just because--! She's wonderful."

"Ah she too?"--Strether had almost a groan.

But Miss Barrace had meanwhile perceived relief. "Why not put your
question straight to the person who can answer it best?"

"No," said little Bilham; "don't put any question; wait, rather--it
will be much more fun--to judge for yourself. He has come to take you
to her."

II

On which Strether saw that Chad was again at hand, and he afterwards
scarce knew, absurd as it may seem, what had then quickly occurred. The
moment concerned him, he felt, more deeply than he could have
explained, and he had a subsequent passage of speculation as to
whether, on walking off with Chad, he hadn't looked either pale or red.
The only thing he was clear about was that, luckily, nothing indiscreet
had in fact been said and that Chad himself was more than ever, in Miss