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beyond the shadow of doubt, that woman would have been grievously
disappointed.
Goodbye, said I.
She shook hands frigidly and turned to ring the bell. A moment
laterI really believe she was moved by a kindly impulseshe
intercepted me at the door.
I know you are odd and quixotic, Marcus, she said in a softer
tone. I hope you will do nothing rash.
What do you mean? I asked in a white heat of unreasonable rage.
I hope you won't try to repair things by marrying thisyoung
person.
To make an honest woman of her, do you mean? I asked grimly.
Yes, said my aunt.
Then suddenly the Devil leaped into me and stirred all the
elements of unrest, anger, and longing together in a cauldron
which I suppose was my heart. The result was explosion. I made
a step forward with raised hands and my aunt recoiled in alarm.
By heaven! I cried, I would give the soul out of my body to
marry her!
And I stumbled out of the house like a blind man.
From that moment of dazzling revelation till now I have nursed
this infinite desire. To say that I love Carlotta is to express
Niagara in terms of a fountain. I crave her with everything
vital in heart and brain. She is an obsession. The scent of her
hair is in my nostrils, the cooing dovenotes of her voice murmur
in my ears, I shut my eyes and feel the rosepetals of her lips
on my cheek, the witchery of her movements dances before my eyes.
I cannot live without her. Until today the house was desolate
enougha ghostly shell of a habitation. Henceforward, without
her my very life will be void. My heart has been crying for her
these two weeks and I knew it not. Now I know. I could stand on
my balcony and lift up my hands toward the south where she
abides, and lift up my voice, and cry for her passionately aloud.
There is no infernal foolishness in the world that I could not
commit tonight. The maddest dingo dog, if he could appreciate my
state of being, would learn points in insanity.
It is two o'clock. I must go to sleep. I take from my shelves
Epictetus, who might be expected to throw cold water on the most
burning fever of the mind. I have not read far before I come
across this consolatory apophthegm: The contest is unequal
between a charming girl and a beginner in philosophy. He is
mocking me, the coldblooded pedagogue! I throw his book across
the room. But he is right. I am but a beginner in philosophy.

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