And yet
jealousy of Carlotta consumes her. Her _amour propre_ is deeply
wounded. She makes me feel as if I had played the part of a
brute. But O Judith, my dear, I have only been a man. "The same
thing," I fancy I hear her answer. But no. I have never loved a
woman, my dear, in all my life before, and as I made no secret of
it, I am guiltless of any. thing like betrayal. In due season I
will tell you frankly of the new love; but how can I tell you
now? How could I tell any human being?
I imagine myself as Panurge, taking counsel with a Pantagruelian
friend. "I am in love with Carlotta and desire to marry her."
"Then marry her," says Pantagruel. "But she does not love me."
"Then don't marry," says Pantagruel. "But nay," urges poor
Panurge, "she would marry me according to any rite, civil or
ecclesiastical, to-morrow." _"Mariez-vous doncques de par dieu,"_
replies Pantagruel. "But I should be a villain to take advantage
of her innocence and submission." "Then don't marry." "But I
can't live without her," says Panurge, desperately.
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