"
"She really is sweet!" said R. this evening. The word does not fit. Her
laugh, her little grimaces, her witticisms, quaint conceits and gestures
are certainly very attractive, but her mode of expression, when she is
talking freely, is very unreserved, and if I were to repeat some of her
remarks to a stranger, he would perhaps think her coarse or loose. "We
shall see what sort of a girl you bring home to us when you are well
again, and whether you have as good taste as our Frenchman. Or perhaps
you would rather visit her? I know how a fine gentleman behaves, when he
visits his friend. She is often a lady, and rich. He comes, knocks
softly at the door, sits down, and talks about difficult and learned
things. Then he begs for a kiss, she flings her arms round his neck;
_allora, il letto rifatto, va via."_ She neither blushes nor feels
the slightest embarrassment when she talks like this. "How do you know
such things, when you have no experience?" "People have told me; I know
it from hearsay. I myself have never been in love, but I believe that it
is possible to love one person one's whole life long, and never grow
tired of him, and never love another. You said the other day (for a
joke?) that people ought to marry for a year or six months; but I
believe that one can love the same person always.
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