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I was struck with the decorative value of
mere woman.
I must break myself of the habit of wandering off on a meditative
tangent to the circle of conversation. I was brought back by
hearing Pasquale say:
"So you're going to marry an Englishman. It's all fixed and
settled, eh?"
"Of course," laughed Carlotta.
"Have you made up your mind what he is to be like?"
I could see the unconscionable Don Juan instinctively preen
himself peacock fashion.
"I am going to marry Seer Marcous," said Carlotta, calmly.
She made this announcement not as a jest, not as a wish, but as
the commonplace statement of a fact. There was a moment of
stupefied silence. Pasquale who had just struck a match to light
a cigarette stared at me and let the flame burn his fingers. I
stared at Carlotta, speechless. The colossal impudence of it!
"I am sorry to contradict you," said I, at last, with some
acidity, "but you are going to do no such thing."
"I am not going to marry you?"
"Certainly not."
"Oh!" said Carlotta, in a tone of disappointment.


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