392 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. matter better that there were other members of the Florentine nobility who never had been there at all. She went whenever she could ; that was all she could say. Or rather, not all ; but all she said she could say. In fact, she had much more to say about it, and had often set forth the reasons why she hated Florence and wished to end her days in the shadow of St. Peter's. They are reasons, however, which do not closely concern us, and were usually summed 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 tor 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 one had heard of. Since her brother's marriage her impatience had gieatiy increased; she was so sure that his wife had a more biiiliant 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 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 herjeli on the only occasion on which she had enjoyed the hospitality oi ? the Palazzo Roccanera. She had spent a week there during the ilrst winter of her brother's marriage ; but she had not been encouraged to ret.ew 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. But her husband 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 oiu-s 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 a patch of common ground somewhere, which they would set their feet upon at last. It was not very large, but it was firm, and they would both kn-w it when once they 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 " upon her, and she as constantly saw this operation postponed. She a^ked
