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sister of my dreamsno, never! _Au grand non, au grand jamais!_
Judith is an incomparable woman, but she is not the utter brother
of my thoughts and the sister of my dreams; nor am I of hers.
But the comradeship she gives me is as food and drink, and my
affection fulfils a need in her nature. The delicate adjustment
of reciprocals is our sanction. Marriage, were it possible,
would indeed be fatal. Our pleasant, free relations, unruffled
by storm, are ideal for us both.
Why, I wonder, did she think her proposal to go away for a change
would vex me?
The idea implies a right of veto which is repugnant to me. Of
all the hateful attitudes towards a woman in which a decent man
can view himself that of the Turkish bashaw is the most
detestable. Women seldom give men credit for this distaste.
I kissed the white hand of Judith that touched my wrist, and told
her not to doubt my understanding. She cried a little.
I don't make your path rougher, Judith? I whispered.
She checked her tears and her eyes brightened wonderfully.
You? You do nothing but smooth it and level it.
Like a steamroller, said I.
She laughed, sprang to her feet, and carried me off gaily to the
kitchen to help her get the tea ready. My assistance consisted
in lighting the gasstove beneath a waterless kettle. After that
I sprawled against the dresser and, with my heart in my mouth,
watched her cut thin breadandbutter in a woman's deliciously
clumsy way. Once, as the bright blade went perilously near her
palm, I drew in my breath.
A man would never dream of doing it like that! I cried, in
rebuke.
She calmly dropped the wafer on to the plate and handed me the
knife and loaf.
Do it your way, she said, with a smile of mock humility.
I did it my way, and cut my finger.
The devil's in the knife! I cried. But that's the right way.
Judith said nothing, but bound up my wound, and, like the
wellconducted person of the ballad, went on cutting
breadandbutter. Her smile, however, was provoking.
And all this time, I said, half an hour later, you haven't
told me where you are going.
Paris. To stay with Delphine Carrere.
I thought you said you wanted solitude.
I have met Delphine Carrere _brave femme_ if ever there was one,
and the loyalest soul in the world, the only one of Judith's
early women friends who has totally ignored the fact of the
Sacred Cap of Good Repute having been thrown over the windmills

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