Waymarsh, who had had letters yesterday, had
had them again to-day, and Waymarsh suggested in this particular
no controlled impulses. The last one he was at all events likely
to be observed to struggle with was clearly that of bringing to a
premature close any visit to the Rue Scribe. Strether had left him
there yesterday; he wanted to see the papers, and he had spent, by
what his friend could make out, a succession of hours with the
papers. He spoke of the establishment, with emphasis, as a post of
superior observation; just as he spoke generally of his actual
damnable doom as a device for hiding from him what was going on.
Europe was best described, to his mind, as an elaborate engine for
dissociating the confined American from that indispensable
knowledge, and was accordingly only rendered bearable by these
occasional stations of relief, traps for the arrest of wandering
western airs. Strether, on his side, set himself to walk again--he
had his relief in his pocket; and indeed, much as he had desired
his budget, the growth of restlessness might have been marked in
him from the moment he had assured himself of the superscription
of most of the missives it contained. This restlessness became
therefore his temporary law; he knew he should recognise as soon
as see it the best place of all for settling down with his chief
correspondent.
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