The Romance of Violette

ODETTE,

“Who is quite ashamed of herself.”

“Well” said I, “that is what I call passion, or I am much mistaken. I must make a sketch of you both at the supreme moment.”

“Monsieur Christian!…”

“Come, tell me what you will say to her?”

“You know very well that you dictate, and that I have only to hold the pen.”

“Then write as follows”:

“Dear Odette,

“Christian leaves me at nine o'clock in the morning; I then take my bath. You invited me to take a bath with you. I now propose that you should take one with me, though I cannot guess what pleasure you expect to derive from it.

“I have not the slightest idea of what love between two women may be; you must, in this respect, initiate me into the mystery. I am wholly ignorant, to my shame be it said.

“But with you I am sure I shall soon be proficient, for I love you.

Your, VIOLETTE.”

She sealed the letter and called Leonie.

“Give that to a messenger,” she said.

“And mind you have it sent this evening,” I added.

“Trust to me for that, the letter shall be delivered tonight,” replied the maid, and thereupon she left the room.

But she soon returned.

“Miss Violette,” said she, “the black servant of madame la Comtesse inquires whether there is a reply to his mistress' letter. Shall I give him the one you just handed to me?”

“Yes, give it to him without a moment's delay.”

Leonie left the room, this time for good.

“Well, she was in a great hurry, this charming Countess,” I said.

“Do what you like, I leave you free to follow your own inclination.”

“Very well. Meanwhile I shall make you as happy as I can.”