It has been proved that there are, here and there, in the
world, such people as sincere impostors; certain characters who cultivate
fictitious emotions in perfect good faith. Even if this clever lady
enjoyed poor Pickering's bedazzlement, it was conceivable that, taking
vanity and charity together, she should care more for his welfare than
for her own entertainment; and her offer to abide by the result of
hazardous comparison with other women was a finer stroke than her
reputation had led me to expect. She received me in a shabby little
sitting-room littered with uncut books and newspapers, many of which I
saw at a glance were French. One side of it was occupied by an open
piano, surmounted by a jar full of white roses. They perfumed the air;
they seemed to me to exhale the pure aroma of Pickering's devotion.
Buried in an arm-chair, the object of this devotion was reading the
_Revue des Deux Mondes_. The purpose of my visit was not to admire
Madame Blumenthal on my own account, but to ascertain how far I might
safely leave her to work her will upon my friend. She had impugned my
sincerity the evening of the opera, and I was careful on this occasion to
abstain from compliments, and not to place her on her guard against my
penetration.
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