For two days after I last wrote, I tried not to see Miss Sharp--I gave
short moments to my book--and she answered a number of business letters.
She knows most of my affairs now,--Burton transmits all the bills and
papers to her.--I can hear them talking through the thin door. The
excitement of that time I was so rude seems to have used up my vitality,
an utter weariness is upon me, I have hardly stirred from my chair.
The ancient guardsman, George Harcourt, came to lunch yesterday. He was
as cynically whimsical as ever--He has a new love--an Italian--and until
now she has refused all his offers of presents, so he is taking a
tremendous interest in her--.
"In what an incredible way the minds of women work, Nicholas!" he
said--"They have frequently a very definite aim underneath, but they
'grasshopper'--."
I looked puzzled I suppose--.
"To 'grasshopper' is a new verb!" he announced--"Daisy Ryven coined
it.--It means just as you alight upon a subject and begin tackling it,
you spring to another one--These lovely American war workers
'grasshopper' continuously.--It is impossible to keep pace with them."
I laughed.
"Yet they seem to have quite a definite aim--to get pleasure out of
life."
"To 'grasshopper' does not prevent pleasure to the grasshopper.--It is
only fatiguing to the listener. You can have no continued sensible
conversation with any of these women--they force you to enjoy only their
skins--"
"Can the Contessa talk?"
"She has the languour of the South--She does not jump from one subject
to another, she is frankly only interested in love."
"Honestly, George--do you believe there is such a thing as real love?"
"We have discussed this before, Nicholas--You know my views--but I am
hoping Violetta will change them. She has just begun to ask daily if I
love her"-"Why do women always do that--even one's little friends continually
murmur the question?"
"It is the working of their subconscious minds----Damn good cigars
these, my dear boy--pre-war eh?----Yes it is to justify their
surrender--They want to be assured in words that you adore
them--because you see the actions of love really prove nothing of love
itself. A stranger who has happened to appeal to the senses can call
them forth quite as successfully as the lady of one's heart!"
"It is logical of women then to ask that eternal question?"
"Quite--I make a point of answering them always without irritation."