he possibility had
been none the less in the air. What Maria accordingly had had now to
take in was that the shock had descended and that he hadn't, all the
same, swung back. He had grown clear, in a flash, on a point long
since settled for herself; but no reapproximation to Mrs. Newsome had
occurred in consequence. Madame de Vionnet had by her visit held up
the torch to these truths, and what now lingered in poor Maria's face
was the somewhat smoky light of the scene between them. If the light
however wasn't, as we have hinted, the glow of joy, the reasons for
this also were perhaps discernible to Strether even through the blur
cast over them by his natural modesty. She had held herself for months
with a firm hand; she hadn't interfered on any chance--and chances were
specious enough--that she might interfere to her profit. She had
turned her back on the dream that Mrs. Newsome's rupture, their
friend's forfeiture--the engagement the relation itself, broken beyond
all mending--might furnish forth her advantage; and, to stay her hand
from promoting these things, she had on private, difficult, but rigid,
lines, played strictly fair. She couldn't therefore but feel that,
though, as the end of all, the facts in question had been stoutly
confirmed, her ground for personal, for what might have been called
interested, elation remained rather vague. Strether might easily have
made out that she had been asking herself, in the hours she had just
sat through, if there were still for her, or were only not, a fair
shade of uncertainty. Let us hasten to add, however, that what he at
first made out on this occasion he also at first kept to himself. He
only asked what in particular Madame de Vionnet had come for, and as to
this his companion was ready.

"She wants tidings of Mr. Newsome, whom she appears not to have seen
for some days."

"Then she hasn't been away with him again?"

"She seemed to think," Maria answered, "that he might have gone away
with YOU."

"And did you tell her I know nothing of him?"

She had her indulgent headshake. "I've known nothing of what you know.
I could only tell her I'd ask you."

"Then I've not seen him for a week--and of course I've wondered." His
wonderment showed at this moment as sharper, but he presently went on.
"Still, I dare say I can put my hand on him. Did she strike you," he
asked, "as anxious?"

"She's always anxious."

"After all I've done for her?" And he had one o