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But Judith is the only woman I have known intimately all my life
long, and sometimes I wonder whether I shall ever know her. I
told her so once. She answered: If you loved me you would know
me. Very likely she was right. Honestly speaking, I don't love
Judith. I am accustomed to her. She is a lady, born and bred.
She is an educated woman and takes quite an intelligent interest
in the Renaissance. Indeed she has a subtler appreciation of the
Venetian School of Painting than I have. She first opened my
eyes, in Italy, to the beauties, as a gorgeous colourist, of
Palma Vecchio in his second or Giorgionesque manner. She is in
every way a sympathetic and entertaining companion. Going
deeper, to the roots of human instinct, I find she represents to
meso chance has willed itthe _ewige weibliche_ which must
complement masculinity in order to produce normal existence. But
as for the _zieht uns hinan_no. It would not attract me
henceout of my sphere. I could commit an immortal folly for no
woman who ever made this planet more lustrous to its
Bruderspharen.
I don't understand Judith. It doesn't very greatly matter. Many
things I don't understand, the spiritual attitude towards
himself, for example, of the intelligent juggler who expends his
life's energies in balancing a cue and three billiardballs on
the tip of his nose. But I know that Judith understands me, and
therein lies the advantage I gain from our intimacy. She gauges,
to an absurdly subtle degree, the depth of my affection. She is
really an incomparable woman. So many insist upon predilection
masquerading as consuming passion. There is nothing theatrical
about Judith.
Yet today she appeared a little touchy, moody, unsettled. She
broke another pleasant spell of fireside silence, that followed
expiation of my offence, by suddenly calling my name.
Yes? said I, inquiringly.
I want to tell you something. Please promise me you won't be
vexed.
My dear Judith, said I, my great and imperial namesake, in
whose meditations I have always found ineffable comfort, tells me
this: 'If anything external vexes you, take notice that it is not
the thing which disturbs you, but your notion about it, which
notion you may dismiss at once, if you please!' So I promise to
dismiss all my notions of your disturbing communication and not
to be vexed.
If there is one platitudinist I dislike more than another, it is
Marcus Aurelius, said Judith.
I laughed. It was very comfortable to sit before the fire, which
protested, in a fire's cheery, human way, against the depression
of the murky world outside, and to banter Judith.

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