The Ambassadors by Henry James (read people like a book .TXT) 📕

out, as he smoked, with his eyes still on the stars. He might in quiet sport have been reading their horoscope. Strether wondered meanwhile what had been open to them, and he finally let him have it. “It was open to them simply to let me alone; to have made up their minds, on really seeing me for themselves, that I could go on well enough as I was.”

Strether assented to this proposition with full lucidity, his companion’s plural pronoun, which stood all for Mrs. Newsome and her daughter, having no ambiguity for him. There was nothing, apparently, to stand for Mamie and Jim; and this added to our friend’s sense of Chad’s knowing what he thought. “But they’ve made up their minds to the opposite⁠—that you can’t go on as you are.”

“No,” Chad continued in the same way; “they won’t have it for a minute.”

Strether on his side also reflectively smoked. It was as if their high place really represented some moral elevation from which they could look down on their recent past. “There never was the smallest chance, do you know, that they would have it for a moment.”

“Of course not⁠—no real chance. But if they were willing to think there was⁠—!”

“They weren’t willing.” Strether had worked it all out. “It wasn’t for you they came out, but for me. It wasn’t to see for themselves what you’re doing, but what I’m doing. The first branch of their curiosity was inevitably destined, under my culpable delay, to give way to the second; and it’s on the second that, if I may use the expression and you don’t mind my marking the invidious fact, they’ve been of late exclusively perched. When Sarah sailed it was me, in other words, they were after.”

Chad took it in both with intelligence and with indulgence. “It is rather a business then⁠—what I’ve let you in for!”

Strether had again a brief pause; which ended in a reply that seemed to dispose once for all of this element of compunction. Chad was to treat it, at any rate, so far as they were again together, as having done so. “I was ‘in’ when you found me.”

“Ah but it was you,” the young man laughed, “who found me.”

“I only found you out. It was you who found me in. It was all in the day’s work for them, at all events, that they should come. And they’ve greatly enjoyed it,” Strether declared.

“Well, I’ve tried to make them,” said Chad.

His companion did himself presently the same justice. “So have I. I tried even this very morning⁠—while Mrs. Pocock was with me. She enjoys for instance, almost as much as anything else, not being, as I’ve said, afraid of me; and I think I gave her help in that.”

Chad took a deeper interest. “Was she very very nasty?”

Strether debated. “Well, she was the most important thing⁠—she was definite. She was⁠—at last⁠—crystalline. And I felt no remorse. I saw that they must have come.”

“Oh I wanted to see them for myself; so that if it were only for that⁠—!” Chad’s own remorse was as small.

This appeared almost all Strether wanted. “Isn’t your having seen them for yourself then the thing, beyond all others, that has come of their visit?”

Chad looked as if he thought it nice of his old friend to put it so. “Don’t you count it as anything that you’re dished⁠—if you are dished? Are you, my dear man, dished?”

It sounded as if he were asking if he had caught cold or hurt his foot, and Strether for a minute but smoked and smoked. “I want to see her again. I must see her.”

“Of course you must.” Then Chad hesitated. “Do you mean⁠—a⁠—Mother herself?”

“Oh your mother⁠—that will depend.”

It was as if Mrs. Newsome had somehow been placed by the words very far off. Chad however endeavoured in spite of this to reach the place. “What do you mean it will depend on?”

Strether, for all answer, gave him a longish look. “I was speaking of Sarah. I must positively⁠—though she quite cast me off⁠—see her again. I can’t part with her that way.”

“Then she was awfully unpleasant?”

Again Strether exhaled. “She was what she had to be. I mean that from the moment they’re not delighted they can only be⁠—well what I admit she was. We gave them,” he went on, “their chance to be delighted, and they’ve walked up to it, and looked all round it, and not taken it.”

“You can bring a horse to water⁠—!” Chad suggested.

“Precisely. And the tune to which this morning Sarah wasn’t delighted⁠—the tune to which, to adopt your metaphor, she refused to drink⁠—leaves us on that side nothing more to hope.”

Chad had a pause, and then as if consolingly: “It was never of course really the least on the cards that they would be ‘delighted.’ ”

“Well, I don’t know, after all,” Strether mused. “I’ve had to come as far round. However”⁠—he shook it off⁠—“it’s doubtless my performance that’s absurd.”

“There are certainly moments,” said Chad, “when you seem to me too good to be true. Yet if you are true,” he added, “that seems to be all that need concern me.”

“I’m true, but I’m incredible. I’m fantastic and ridiculous⁠—I don’t explain myself even to myself. How can they then,” Strether asked, “understand me? So I don’t quarrel with them.”

“I see. They quarrel,” said Chad rather comfortably, “with us.” Strether noted once more the comfort, but his young friend had already gone on. “I should feel greatly ashamed, all the same, if I didn’t put it before you again that you ought to think, after all, tremendously well. I mean before giving up beyond recall⁠—” With which insistence, as from a certain delicacy, dropped.

Ah but Strether wanted it. “Say it all, say it all.”

“Well, at your age, and with what⁠—when all’s said and done⁠—Mother might do for you and be for you.”

Chad had said it all, from his natural scruple, only to that extent; so that Strether after an instant himself took a hand. “My absence of an