Free The House in Paris by Elizabeth Bowen

amusing about her early humiliations that soon no one believed they had ever been. She seemed to have been born lucky. At twenty she married, and only Henrietta, fidgeting in the aisle in her Second Empire little girl's bridesmaid's frock while Caroline, white and distant, knelt at the altar, spared a puzzled thought for Mr Jeffcocks that day. On no other occasion did Caroline speak of her heart. The vulgar affair of Mr Jeffcocks blew over, as Mrs Arbuthnot had always foreseen it would.
    Mme Fisher's scornful exaggerations on the subject of dying levelled that and everything else flat. Caring for nothing, she seemed to keep every happening, like rows of sea-blunted pebbles with no character, in her lit-up mind. Her eyes still looked through the door to disconcert Henrietta. For growing little girls are tempted up like plants by the idea that something is happening that they will some day know about. Mme Fisher's eyes, her indifferent way of talking, made Henrietta feel that nothing was going on — never had, never would: you knew that when you knew. Henrietta could not understand why that picture of Mrs Arbuthnot walking by the seashore with her green parasol had made her so nearly blush: she only knew she felt guilty, involved in a wrong smile. The fact was, Mrs Arbuthnot did not like anybody to debunk life: though always she said she regretted nothing, she liked to feel there was much to regret if one chose.
    A smell of cooking began to come upstairs: lunch would be soon — after that, Leopold's mother. Henrietta, eyeing the barlike stripes of the paper, felt a house like this was too small for so much to happen in. All these things that were still to happen waited: for all she knew this might always be so in Paris ... On the landing above the sick-room door opened; Miss Fisher began to come down. Henrietta contracted her shoulder-blades.
    'Why, Henrietta, what are you doing here?'
    'Just sitting down.'
    'But it is so lonely for you.'
    'In England I often sit on the stairs.'
    Miss Fisher came three steps lower to say: 'Do not, please, repeat what my mother has said to Leopold.'
    'Oh, goodness, no,' said Henrietta, impatient.
    'I was for a short time engaged to marry his father, then we found it unsuitable.'
    'Oh. Am I to see Leopold's mother at all?'
    'Oh, no; I am afraid that is impossible. But I will take you to see the Trocadéro, certainly.'
    'Do you think we could have tea at a shop?'
    'Anything, Henrietta.'
    'Thank you. Perhaps I may think of more things.' She went on in a lower voice: 'What is his mother like?'
    'English in type, beautiful. My mother took in pensionnaires here until her illness, and Karen — she — was one of them. Naturally, she has changed a little since then.'
    'Mrs what is she?'
    'Oh, I think it is useless to tell you. I should think of her as Mrs Brown.'
    'Why?'
    'That would be better.'
    'What's Leopold's other name, then?'
    'He is called Grant Moody.'
    'Oh, goodness! That doesn't suit him!'
    'He has taken the name of the family that he lives with. They are very kind, good: he should be happy with them.'
    'But why is he not with her?'
    Miss Fisher, tired of bending over to answer in a discreet voice, sat down also, one step below Henrietta, with an uneasy sigh. 'Please Henrietta,' she said, 'you must be content not to ask me so many things. You make the day more difficult. I did not see, I think, how difficult it might be. No doubt your grandmother will tell you more about life when she considers you old enough. I have a great regard for her understanding. I think now you should go down and play with Leopold.'
    'We don't really play very much.'
    'He is a little shy, perhaps.'
    ' I should call him superior.'
    Miss Fisher, after a nonplussed silence, said: 'Have you let him play with your monkey yet?'
    ' — Mayn't I stay on the stairs?'
    'It is a little sad for you,' said her hostess decisively.
    If Miss Fisher had had the idea of going downstairs when she left the sick-room, she clearly gave