"That is so dull." She caught up Polyphemus and buried her face in his fur.

"That's the way I should like to be kissed." "The man you love, my dear," said I, "will doubtless do it." She made a little grimace.
"Oh, then, I shall have to wait such a long time." "You needn't," said I, taking her hands again and speaking very seriously.

"Can't you learn to love a man, give him your whole heart and all your best and sweetest thoughts ?" "I would marry any nice man if you gave me to him," she answered.
"It would not matter who he was?
Anyone would do ?" "Why, of course," said Carlotta.
"And any one wanting to marry you could kiss you as you kissed Polyphemus." "Oh-h, he would have to be nice--not like Mustapha." I turned away with a sigh and lit a cigarette, while Carlotta curled herself up on the sofa and inspected her face and necklace in the silver mirror.

In a moment she was talking to the cat, who had jumped on her lap and with arched back was rubbing himself against her.
Soon the touch of sadness was lost in the happy sight of her and the happy thought that my house was no longer left to me desolate.

We laughed away the evening.
But now, sitting alone, I feel empty of soul; like a man stricken with fierce hunger who, expecting food in a certain place, finds nothing but a few delicate cakes that mock his craving.
October 14th.
A week has passed.