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frisked and gamboled around me in excess of joy.
So you are glad to have me back, Carlotta? I asked, as we were
driving home.
She sidled up against me in her terrier fashion.
Oh, yees, she cooed. The day was night without you.
That is the oriental language of exaggeration, I said. But all
the same it was pleasant to hear, and the soft notes of her voice
coiled themselves, as music sometimes dus, around my heart.
I love dear Seer Marcous, she said.
I put my arm round her waist for a moment, as one would do to a
child.
You are a good little girl, Carlotta. That is to say, I added,
remembering my responsibilities, if you _have_ been good. Have
you?
Oh, so good. Antoinette has been teaching me how to cook, and I
can make a rice pudding. It is so nice to cook things. I like
the smell. But I burned myself. See.
She pulled off her glove and showed me a red mark on her hand. I
kissed it to make it well, and she laughed and was very happy.
And I, too, was happy. Something new and fresh and bright has
come into my life. Stenson is an admirable servant; but his
impassive face and correct salute which have hitherto greeted me
at London railway termini, although suggestive of material
comfort, cannot be said to invest my arrival with a special
atmosphere of charm. Carlotta's welcome has been a new
sensation. I look upon the house with different eyes. It was a
pleasure, as I dressed for dinner, to reflect that I should not
go down to a solemn, solitary meal, but would have my beautiful
little witch to keep me company.
July 22d.
It appears that her conduct has not been by any means
irreproachable. Miss Griggs reported that she took advantage of
my absence to saturate herself with scent, one of the most
heinous crimes in our domestic calendar. _Mulier bene olet dum
nihil olet_ is the maxim written above this article of our code.
Once when she disobeyed my orders and came into the drawingroom
reeking of ylangylang, I sent her upstairs to change all her
things and have a bath, and not come near me till Antoinette
vouched for her scentlessness. And Ah, monsieur, I remember
Antoinette replied, that would be impossible, for the sweet lamb
smells of spring flowers, _de son naturel_. Which is true. Her
use of violent perfumes is thus a double offence. There is
something more serious, said Miss Griggs.
I can hardly believe there can be anything more serious than
making one's self detestable to one's fellowcreatures, said I.

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