She is as gay as any street urchin, and I have seen her
laughing as schoolgirls laugh, the tears running down her face, which
would be considered bad form in anybody but an artist, who is a
privileged person. Hers, from a moral point of view, is a beautiful
character, though beyond her art, she is not endowed with great
intellectual gifts. Laura, who, in the main, does not like her, hinted
to me several times that the caryatid is in love with me. I do not
believe it; she might love me, perhaps, if I tried to make her. One
thing is certain, she likes me very much, and felt sympathy for me the
first time we met. I return the sentiment, and do not try to disturb
her peace of mind. When I meet a woman for the first time I look upon
her, from old habit I suppose, as a possible conquest; it is the first
instinct. A second thought is quite different. Generally speaking,
women interest me in the way precious stones interest a jeweller who
has retired from business. Seeing a valuable gem, I say to myself it
is worth having, and then I remember that I have sold out, and go on
my way.
In spite of all that, I once, half in jest, urged her to go to Warsaw,
and promised to escort her as honorary _impresario_. I do not say that
such a journey would be without charm. I really intend going. My aunt
has given me her town house, and wants me to come over in order to
take the property.
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