October 21st.
To please her I am accustoming myself to this out-of-door life,
which once I despised so cordially. Pasquale has joined us two
or three times. Last night he gave a dinner in Carlotta's honour
at the Continental. The ladies of the party have asked her to go
to see them. She must have some society, I suppose, and I must
go with her. They belong to the half smart set, eager to conceal
beneath a show of raffishness their plentiful lack of intellect
and their fundamental bourgeois respectability. In spite of
Pasquale's brilliance and Carlotta's rapturous enjoyment I sat
mumchance and depressed, out of my element.
My work is at a standstill, and Carlotta is my life. I fear I am
deteriorating.
On Judith, whom I have seen once or twice since Carlotta's
return, I called this afternoon. She is unhappy. Although I
have not confessed to my thraldom, her woman's wit, I feel sure,
has penetrated to the heart of my mystery. There has been no
deep emotion in our intercourse. Its foundation has been real
friendship sweetened with pleasant sentimentality.
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