So, whilst the twilight held, well content, in contiguous chairs, they
purred in flattery of their kindly fate, imagining different pleasures,
certainly, but none greater, and tasting to its subtlest flavor the
happiness conscious of itself.

Their own satisfaction, indeed, was so interesting to them in this
objective light, that they had little desire to turn from its
contemplation to the people around them; and when at last they did so, it
was still with lingering glances of self-recognition and enjoyment. They
divined rightly that one of the main conditions of their present felicity
was the fact that they had seen so much of time and of the world, that
they had no longer any desire to take beholding eyes, or to make any sort
of impressive figure, and they understood that their prosperous love
accounted as much as years and travel for this result. If they had had a
loftier opinion of themselves, their indifference to others might have
made them offensive; but with their modest estimate of their own value in
the world, they could have all the comfort of self-sufficiency, without
its vulgarity.

"O yes!" said Basil, in answer to some apostrophe to their bliss from
Isabel, "it's the greatest imaginable satisfaction to have lived past
certain things. I always knew that I was not a very handsome or otherwise
captivating person, but I can remember years--now blessedly remote--when
I never could see a young girl without hoping she would mistake me for
something of that sort. I couldn't help desiring that some fascination of
mine, which had escaped my own analysis, would have an effect upon her. I
dare say all young men are so. I used to live for the possible interest I
might inspire in your sex, Isabel. They controlled my movements, my
attitudes; they forbade me repose; and yet I believe I was no ass, but a
tolerably sensible fellow. Blessed be marriage, I am free at last! All