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were laughing at her。 She reflected that if she had been in their place
she would have shown greater tact by not stopping just at that instant。
But she did not mind。 She knew that they talked her over； but having a
very good conscience； she simply talked them over in return。 〃Have you
seen my daughter within a few minutes？〃 she asked。
〃She was with Mr。 Mavering at the end of the piazza a moment ago；〃 said
Mrs。 Brinkley。 〃They must leave just gone round the corner of the
building。〃
〃Oh；〃 said Mrs。 Pasmer。 She had a novel； with her finger between its
leaves； pressed against her heart； after the manner of ladies coming out
on hotel piazzas。 She sat down and rested it on her knee； with her hand
over the top。
Miss Cotton bent forward； and Mrs。 Pasmer lifted her fingers to let her
see the name of the book。
〃Oh yes；〃 said Miss Cotton。 〃But he's so terribly pessimistic； don't you
think？〃
〃What is it？〃 asked Mrs。 Brinkley。
〃Fumee；〃 said Mrs。 Pasmer； laying the book title upward on her lap for
every one to see。
〃Oh yes；〃 said Mrs。 Brinkley； fanning herself。 〃Tourguenief。 That man
gave me the worst quarter of an hour with his 'Lisa' that I ever had。〃
〃That's the same as the 'Nichee des Gentilshommes'； isn't it？〃 asked Mrs。
Pasmer； with the involuntary superiority of a woman who reads her
Tourguenief in French。
〃I don't know。 I had it in English。 I don't build my ships to cross the
sea in； as Emerson says； I take those I find built。〃
〃Ah！ I was already on the other side；〃 said Mrs。 Pasmer softly。 She
added： 〃I must get Lisa。 I like a good heart…break； don't you？ If
that's what gave you the bad moment。〃
〃Heart…break？ Heart…crush！ Where Lavretsky comes back old to the scene
of his love for Lisa； and strikes that chord on the pianowell； I simply
wonder that I'm alive to recommend the book to you。
〃Do you know；〃 said Miss Cotton； very deferentially； 〃that your daughter
always made me think of Lisa？〃
〃Indeed！〃 cried Mrs。 Pasmer； not wholly pleased； but gratified that she
was able to hide her displeasure。 〃You make me very curious。〃
〃Oh； I doubt if you'll see more than a mere likeness of temperament；〃
Mrs。 Brinkley interfered bluntly。 〃All the conditions are so different。
There couldn't be an American Lisa。 That's the charm of these Russian
tragedies。 You feel that they're so perfectly true there； and so
perfectly impossible here。 Lavretsky would simply have got himself
divorced from Varvara Pavlovna； and no clergyman could have objected to
marrying him to Lisa。〃
〃That's what I mean by his pessimism；〃 said Miss Cotton。 〃He leaves you
no hope。 And I think that despair should never be used in a novel except
for some good purpose； don't you； Mrs。 Brinkley？〃
〃Well；〃 said Mrs。 Brinkley； 〃I was trying to think what good purpose
despair could be put to； in a book or out of it。〃
〃I don't think；〃 said Mrs。 Pasmer； referring to the book in her lap；
〃that he leaves you altogether in despair here； unless you'd rather he'd
run off with Irene than married Tatiana。〃
〃Oh； I certainly didn't wish that；〃 said Miss Cotton； in self…defence； as
if the shot had been aimed at her。
〃The book ends with a marriage； there's no denying that；〃 said Mrs。
Brinkley； with a reserve in her tone which caused Mrs。 Pasmer to continue
for her
〃And marriage means happinessin a book。〃
〃I'm not sure that it does in this case。 The time would come； after
Litvinof had told Tatiana everything； when she would have to ask herself；
and not once only； what sort of man it really was who was willing to
break his engagement and run off with another man's wife； and whether he
could ever repent enough for it。 She could make excuses for him； and
would； but at the bottom of her heartNo； it seems to me that there；
almost for the only time； Tourguenief permitted himself an amiable
weakness。 All that part of the book has the air of begging the
question。〃
〃But don't you see；〃 said Miss Cotton； leaning forward in the way she had
when very earnest； 〃that he means to show that her love is strong enough
for all that？〃
〃But he doesn't； because it isn't。 Love isn't strong enough to save
people from unhappiness through each other's faults。 Do you suppose that
so many married people are unhappy in each other because they don't love
each other？ No； it's because they do love each other that their faults
are such a mutual torment。 If they were indifferent； they wouldn't mind
each other's faults。 Perhaps that's the reason why there are so many
American divorces； if they didn't care； like Europeans； who don't marry
for love； they could stand it。〃
〃Then the moral is；〃 said Mrs。 Pasmer； at her lightest through the
surrounding gravity； 〃that as all Americans marry for love； only
Americans who have been very good ought to get married。〃
〃I'm not sure that the have…been goodness is enough either；〃 said Mrs。
Brinkley； willing to push it to the absurd。 〃You marry a man's future as
well as his past。〃
〃Dear me！ You are terribly exigeante； Mrs。 Brinkley；〃 said Mrs。 Pasmer。
〃One can afford to be soin the abstract；〃 answered Mrs。 Brinkley。
They all stopped talking and looked at John Munt； who was coming toward
them； and each felt a longing to lay the matter before him。
There was probably not a woman among them but had felt more； read more；
and thought more than John Munt； but he was a man； and the mind of a man
is the court of final appeal for the wisest women。 Till some man has
pronounced upon their wisdom； they do not know whether it is wisdom or
not。
Munt drew up his chair； and addressed himself to the whole group through
Mrs。 Pasmer： 〃We are thinking of getting up a little picnic to…morrow。
XIV。
The day of the picnic struggled till ten o'clock to peer through the fog
that wrapt it with that remote damp and coolness and that nearer drouth
and warmth which some fogs have。 The low pine groves hung full of it；
and it gave a silvery definition to the gossamer threads running from one
grass spear to another in spacious networks over the open levels of the
old fields that stretch back from the bluff to the woods。 At last it
grew thinner； somewhere over the bay； then you could see the smooth water
through it； then it drifted off in ragged fringes before a light breeze：
when you looked landward again it was all gone there； and seaward it had
gathered itself in a low； dun bank along the horizon。 It was the kind of
fog that people interested in Campobello admitted as apt to be common
there； but claimed as a kind of local virtue when it began to break away。
They said that it was a very dry fog； not like Newport； and asked you to
notice that it did not wet you at all。
Four or five carriages； driven by the gentlemen of the party； held the
picnic； which was destined for that beautiful cove on the Bay of Fundy
where the red granite ledges； smooth…washed by ages of storm and sun；
lend themselves to such festivities as if they had been artificially
fashioned into shelves and tables。 The whole place is yet so new to men
that this haunt has not acquired that air of repulsive custom which the
egg shells and broken bottles and