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going to have her heart broken by any cinquecento wolf in
Poole's clothing. I assume that Carlotta has a heart, even if
she is not possessed of a soul. As to the latter I am still in
doubt. At all events I resolved to withdraw Carlotta from his
influence, put her in fresh surroundings, and allow her to mix
more freely among men and women, so as to divert and possibly
improve her mind.
I perceive that Carlotta is becoming an occupation. Well, she is
quite as profitable as collecting postagestamps, or golf, or
amateur photography.
I have spent a pleasant month in this little place. It is the
mouth of a gorge in the midst of a cliffbound coast. The bay,
but a quarter of a mile in sweep, is shut in at each end by a
projecting wall of cliff cut by a natural arch. Half the shingle
beach is given up to fisherfolk and their boats and tarred Noah's
arks where they keep their nets. The other half suddenly rises
into a digue or terrace on which is built a primitive casino, and
below the terrace are the bathingcabins. We are staying at the
most spotlessly clean of all clean French hotels. There are no
carpets on the stairs; but if one mounts them in muddy boots, an
untiring chambermaid emerges from a lair below, with hot water
and scrubbingbrush and smilingly removes the traces of one's
passage. Carlotta and Antoinette have adjoining rooms in the
main building. I inhabit the annexe, sleeping in a quaint,
clean, bare little chamber with a balconied window that looks
over the Noah's Arks and the fishingsmacks and fisherfolk, away
out to sea. This morning as I lay in bed I saw our Channel fleet
lie along the arc of the horizon.
Antoinette dwells in continuous rapture at being in France again.
Carlotta assures me that the smile does not leave her great red
face even as she sleeps of nights. It is a little jest between
us. She peeped in once to see. The good soul has filled herself
up with French conversation as a starving hen gorges herself with
corn. She has scraped acquaintance with every washerwoman,
fishwife, _marchande_, bathing woman and domestic servant on the
beach. She is on intimate terms with the whole male native
population. When the three of us happen to walk together it is a
triumphal progress of bows and grins and nods. At first I
thought it was I for whom this homage was intended. I was soon
undeceived. It was Antoinette. She loves to parade Carlotta
before her friends. I came upon her once entertaining an

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