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Updated: June 26, 2025
"That is the oriental language of exaggeration," I said. But all the same it was pleasant to hear, and the soft notes of her voice coiled themselves, as music sometimes dus, around my heart. "I love dear Seer Marcous," she said. I put my arm round her waist for a moment, as one would do to a child. "You are a good little girl, Carlotta.
"It was a lie this evening," said I, "but in a few days I hope it will be true." "You are going to marry me?" she asked, suddenly sitting erect and looking at me rather bewildered. "If you will have me, Carlotta." "I will do what Seer Marcous tells me," she answered. "Will you marry me to-morrow?" "I think it hardly possible, my dear," I answered. "But I shall lose no time, I assure you.
One afternoon I came home and found her weeping over a book. When I bent down to see what she was reading she had acquired a taste for novels during the dull pension time in Paris she caught my head with both hands. "Oh, Seer Marcous, do you think they ought to make me wear a great 'A'?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "Like Hester Prynne see." She showed me Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Scarlet Letter."
My mamma used to cry all the time at Alexandretta; but Hamdi! " she broke into an adorable trill of a chuckle, "You would as soon see a goose going with boots and stockings, like the Puss in the shoes the fairy tale as Hamdi crying. Hou!" Half an hour later, as we were driving homewards, she broke a rather long silence which she had evidently been employing in meditation. "Seer Marcous." "Yes?"
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