I don't see – unless I should go with you.« She evidently had n't thought of this before.

We ascended to the upper floor and visited a long succession of empty rooms. The best of them looked over the garden; some of the others had above the opposite rough-tiled house-tops a view of the blue lagoon. They were all dusty and even a little disfigured with long neglect, but I saw that by spending a few hundred francs I should be able to make three or four of them habitable enough. My experiment was turning out costly, yet now that I had all but taken possession I ceased to allow this to trouble me. I mentioned to my companion a few of the things I should put in, but she replied rather more precipitately than usual that I might do exactly what I liked: she seemed to wish to notify me that the Misses Bordereau would take none but the most veiled interest in my proceedings. I guessed that her aunt had instructed her to adopt this tone, and I may as well say now that I came afterwards to distinguish perfectly (as I believed) between the speeches she made on her own responsibility and those the old woman imposed upon her. She took no notice of the unswept condition of the rooms and indulged neither in explanations nor in apologies. I said to myself that this was a sign Juliana and her niece – disenchanting idea! – were untidy persons with a low Italian standard; but I afterwards recognised that a lodger who had forced an entrance had no locus standi as a critic. We looked out of a good many windows, for there was nothing within the rooms to look at, and still I wanted to linger. I asked her what several different objects in the prospect might be, but in no case did she appear to know. She was evidently not familiar with the view – it was as if she had not looked at it for years – and I presently saw that she was too preoccupied with something else to pretend to care for it. Suddenly she said – the remark was not suggested:

»I don't know whether it will make any difference to you, but the money is for me.«

»The money –?«

»The money you're going to bring.«

»Why you'll make me wish to stay here two or three years!« I spoke as benevolently as possible, though it had begun to act on my nerves that these women so associated with Aspern should so constantly bring the pecuniary question back.

»That would be very good for me,« she answered almost gaily.

»You put me on my honour!«

She looked as if she failed to understand this, but went on: »She wants me to have more. She thinks she's going to die.«

»Ah not soon I hope!« I cried with genuine feeling. I had perfectly considered the possibility of her destroying her documents on the day she should feel her end at hand. I believed that she would cling to them till then, and I was as convinced of her reading Aspern's letters over every night or at least pressing them to her withered lips. I would have given a good deal for some view of those solemnities. I asked Miss Tina if her venerable relative were seriously ill, and she replied that she was only very tired – she had lived so extraordinarily long. That was what she said herself – she wanted to die for a change. Besides, all her friends had been dead for ages; either they ought to have remained or she ought to have gone. That was another thing her aunt often said: she was not at all resigned – resigned, that is, to life.

»But people don't die when they like, do they?« Miss Tina enquired. I took the liberty of asking why, if there was actually enough money to maintain both of them, there would not be more than enough in case of her being left alone. She considered this difficult problem a moment and then said: »Oh well, you know, she takes care of me. She thinks that when I'm alone I shall be a great fool and shan't know how to manage.«

»I should have supposed rather that you took care of her. I'm afraid she's very proud.«

»Why, have you discovered that already?« Miss Tina cried with a dimness of glad surprise.

»I was shut up with her there for a considerable time and she struck me, she interested me extremely. It did n't take me long to make my discovery. She won't have much to say to me while I'm here.«

»No, I don't think she will,« my companion averred.

»Do you suppose she has some suspicion of me?«

Miss Tina's honest eyes gave me no sign I had touched a mark. »I should n't think so – letting you in after all so easily.«

»You call it easily? She has covered her risk,« I said. »But where is it one could take an advantage of her?«

»I ought n't to tell you if I knew, ought I?« And Miss Tina added, before I had time to reply to this, smiling dolefully: »Do you think we've any weak points?«

»That's exactly what I'm asking. You'd only have to mention them for me to respect them religiously.«

She looked at me hereupon with that air of timid but candid and even gratified curiosity with which she had confronted me from the first; after which she said: »There's nothing to tell. We're terribly quiet.