Carlotta nestled close
against me, seeking the shelter of my arm. She cried, I don't
know why, but it seemed to afford comfort. I kissed her lips and
her hair.
At home, I drew the sofa near the fire--it has been a raw night
and she feels the cold like a tropical plant--and sat down by her
side.
"Did you hear what I said to Hamdi Effendi--that you were my
wife?"
"But that was only a lie," she answered in her plain idiom.
My petting and soothing together with the sense of home security
and a cup of French chocolate prepared by Antoinette, who,
astonished at our early return and seeing her darling in
distress, had hastened to provide culinary consolation, had
restored her wonted serenity of demeanour. Polyphemus also
purred reassuringly upon her lap.
"It was a lie this evening," said I, "but in a few days I hope it
will be true."
"You are going to marry me?" she asked, suddenly sitting erect
and looking at me rather bewildered.
"If you will have me, Carlotta."
"I will do what Seer Marcous tells me," she answered.
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