The Golden Bowl - Henry James [228]
‘And I believed in her,’ said Maggie.
Mrs Assingham waited again; but she presently pushed on. ‘She believed then in herself.’
‘Ah?’ Maggie murmured.
Something exquisite, faintly eager, in the prompt simplicity of it, supported her friend further. ‘And the Prince believed. His belief was real. Just as he believed in himself.’
Maggie spent a minute in taking it from her. ‘He believed in himself?’
‘Just as I too believed in him. For I absolutely did, Maggie.’ To which Fanny then added: ‘And I believe in him yet. I mean,’ she subjoined – ‘well, I mean I do.’
Maggie again took it from her; after which she was again restlessly set afloat. Then when this had come to an end: ‘And do you believe in Charlotte yet?’
Mrs Assingham had a demur that she felt she could now afford. ‘We’ll talk of Charlotte some other day. They both at any rate thought themselves safe at the time.’
‘Then why did they keep from me everything I might have known?’
Her friend bent upon her the mildest eyes. ‘Why did I myself keep it from you?’
‘Oh you weren’t obliged for honour.’
‘Dearest Maggie,’ the poor woman broke out on this, ‘you are divine!’
‘They pretended to love me,’ the Princess went on. ‘And they pretended to love him.’
‘And pray what was there that I didn’t pretend?’
‘Not at any rate to care for me as you cared for Amerigo and for Charlotte. They were much more interesting – it was perfectly natural. How couldn’t you like Amerigo?’ Maggie continued.
Mrs Assingham gave it up. ‘How couldn’t I, how couldn’t I?’ Then with a fine freedom she went all her way. ‘How can’t I, how can’t I?’
It fixed afresh Maggie’s wide eyes on her. ‘I see – I see. Well, it’s beautiful for you to be able to. And of course,’ she added, ‘you wanted to help Charlotte.’
‘Yes’ – Fanny considered it – ‘I wanted to help Charlotte. But I wanted also, you see, to help you – by not digging up a past that I believed, with so much on top of it, solidly buried. I wanted, as I still want,’ she richly declared, ‘to help every one.’
It set Maggie once more in movement – movement which however spent itself again with a quick emphasis. ‘Then it’s a good deal my fault – if everything really began so well?’
Fanny Assingham met it as she could. ‘You’ve been only too perfect. You’ve thought only too much –’
But the Princess had already caught at the words. ‘Yes – I’ve thought only too much!’ Yet she appeared to continue for the minute full of that fault. She had it in fact, by this prompted thought, all before her. ‘Of him, dear man, of him –!’
Her friend, able to take in thus directly her vision of her father, watched her with a new suspense. That way might safety lie – it was like a wider chink of light. ‘He believed – with a beauty! – in Charlotte.’
‘Yes, and it was I who had made him believe. I didn’t mean to at the time so much, for I had no idea then of what was coming. But I did it, I did it!’ the Princess declared.
‘With a beauty – ah with a beauty you too!’ Mrs Assingham insisted.
Maggie at all events was seeing for herself – it was another matter. ‘The thing was that he made her think it would be so possible.’
Fanny again hesitated. ‘The Prince made her think –?’
Maggie stared – she had meant her father. But her vision seemed to spread. ‘They both made her think. She wouldn’t have thought without them.’
‘Yet Amerigo’s good faith,’ Mrs Assingham insisted, ‘was perfect. And there was nothing, all the more,’ she added, ‘against your father’s.’
The remark kept Maggie for a moment still. ‘Nothing perhaps but his knowing that she knew.’
‘ “Knew” –?’
‘That he was doing it so much for me. To what extent,’ she suddenly asked of her friend, ‘do you think he was aware she knew?’
‘Ah who can say what passes between people in such a relation? The only thing one can be sure of is that he was generous.’ And Mrs Assingham conclusively smiled. ‘He doubtless knew as much as was right for himself.’
‘As much, that is,