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I had prejudiced
Judith against Carlotta. I had aroused the Ishmaelite--her hand
against every woman and every woman's hand against her--that
survives in all her sex.
"My dear Judith," said I, "if a wicked fairy godmother had
decreed that a healthy rhinoceros should be my housemate you
would have extended me your sympathy. But because Fate has
inflicted on me an equally embarrassing guest in the shape of a
young woman--"
"My dear Marcus," interrupted Judith, "the healthy rhinoceros
would know twenty times as much about women as you do." This I
consider one of the silliest remarks Judith has ever made. "
Do," she continued, "tell me something coherent about this young
person you call Carlotta."
I told the story from beginning to end.
"But why in the world did you keep it from me?" she asked.
"I mistrusted the sixth sense of woman," said I.
"The most elementary sense of woman or any one else would have
told you that you were doing a very foolish thing."
"How would you have acted?"
"I should have handed her over at once to the Turkish consulate.


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