"You are the most delightful woman!" he cried.
"Think how much simpler it would have been—I mean originally, when things were right, if they ever were right. Don't you see my point? But now it 's too late. She has seen you when you were not on show. I assure you she is cured!"
At this moment Eunice came in, and just afterwards I left the room. I am sure it was a revelation, and that I have given him a mauvais quart d'heure.
Rome, February 23. When I came back to this dear place Adrian Frank was not here, and I learned that he had gone to Sicily. A week ago I wrote to him: "You said you would come if I should send for you. I should be glad if you would come now." Last evening he appeared, and I told him that I could no longer endure my suspense in regard to a certain subject. Would he kindly inform me what he had done in New York after he left me under the trees at Cornerville? Of what sacrifice had he been guilty; to what high generosity—terrible to me to think of—had he committed himself? He would tell me very little; but he is almost a poor man. He has just enough income to live in Italy.
May 9. Mrs. Ermine has taken it into her head to write to me. I have heard from her three times; and in her last letter, received yesterday, she returns to her old refrain that Eunice and Mr. Caliph will soon be united. I don't know what may be going on; but can it be possible that I put it into his head? Truly, I have a felicitous touch!
