She has a manner of holding chocolate creams to her white teeth
and talking to you at the same time which is peculiarly
fascinating. And she must have some sense. To-night she asked
me what I was writing. I replied, "A History of the Morals of
the Renaissance."
"What are morals and what is the Renaissance?" asked Carlotta.
When you come to think of it, it is a profound question, which
philosophers and historians have wasted vain lives in trying to
answer. I perceive that I too must try to answer it with a
certain amount of definition. I have spent the evening
remodelling my Introduction, so as to define the two terms
axiomatically with my subsequent argument, and I find it greatly
improved. Now this is due to Carlotta.
The quantity of chocolate creams the child eats cannot be good
for her digestion. I must see to this.
July 2d.
A telegram from Judith to say she postpones her return to Monday.
I have been longing to see the dear woman again, and I am greatly
disappointed. At the same time it is a respite from an
explanation that grows more difficult every day.
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