CHAPTER VIII
July 4th.
Judith has come back. I have seen her and I have explained Carlotta.
All day long I felt like a respectable person about to be brought before a magistrate for being drunk and disorderly. Now I have the uneasy satisfaction of having been let off with a caution. I am innocent, but I mustn’t do it again.
As soon as I entered the room Judith embraced me, and said a number of foolish things. I responded to the best of my ability. It is not usual for our quiet lake of affection to be visited by such tornadoes.
“Oh, I am glad, I am glad to be back with you again. I have longed for you. I couldn’t write it. I did not know I could long for any one so much.”
“I have missed you immensely, my dear Judith,” said I.
She looked at me queerly for a moment; then with a radiant smile:
“I love you for not going into transports like a Frenchman. Oh, I am tired of Frenchmen. You are my good English Marcus, and worth all masculine Paris put together.”