Man and Maid

Their toupé is surprising! To hear this one talk one would think she

ruled all the politics of the allies, and directed each General.

* * * * *

Are men fools?--Yes, imbeciles--they cannot see the wiles of woman.

Perhaps I could not when I was a human male whom they could love!

Love?--did I say love?

Is there such a thing?--or is it only a sex excitement for the

moment!--That at all events is the sum of what these creatures know.

Do they ever think?--I mean beyond planning some fresh adventure for

themselves, or how to secure some fresh benefit.

I cannot now understand how a man ever marries one of them, gives his

name and his honour into such precarious keeping. Once I suppose I

should have been as easy a prey as the rest. But not now--I have too

much time to think, I fear. I seem to find some ulterior motive in

whatever people say or do.

To-day another American lunched with me, a bright girl, an heiress of the

breezy, jolly kind, a good sort before the war, whom I danced with

often. She told me quite naturally that she had a German prisoner's

thigh bone being polished into an umbrella handle--She had assisted at

the amputation--and the man had afterwards died--"A really cute

souvenir," she assured me it was going to be!

Are we all mad--?

No wonder the finest and best "go West."--Will they come again, souls of

a new race, when all these putrid beings have become extinguished by

time? I hope so to God....

These French women enjoy their crepe veils--and their high-heeled shoes,

and their short black skirts, even a cousin is near enough for the

trappings of woe.--Can any of us feel woe now?--I think not....

Maurice has his uses--Were I a man once more I should despise

Maurice--He is so good a creature, such a devoted hanger on of the very

rich--and faithful too. Does he not pander to my every fancy, and

procure me whatever I momentarily desire?

How much better if I had been killed outright! I loathe myself and all

the world.

* * * * *

Once--before the war--the doing up of this flat caused me raptures. To

get it quite English--in Paris! Every antiquaire in London had

exploited me to his heart's content. I paid for it through the nose, but

each bit is a gem. I am not quite sure now what I meant to do with it

when finished, occupy it when I did come to Paris--lend it to

friends?--I don't remember--Now it seems a sepulchre where I can retire

my maimed body to and wait for the end.