e had bought at Mother
Martin's. Then I gave her a pounding and she left me at once. I met her
six months ago and she asked me to come and live with her, as she has
rented a flat that is twice too large."

One goes on one's way and hears no more. But on the following Sunday as
one is on the way to Saint Germain two young women get into the same
railway carriage. One recognizes one of them at once; it is Julia's
enemy. The other is Julia!

And there are endearments, caresses, plans. "Say, Julia--listen,
Julia," etc.

The girl-man has his friendships of this kind. For three months he cannot
bear to leave his old Jack, his dear Jack. There is no one but Jack in
the world. He is the only one who has any intelligence, any sense, any
talent. He alone amounts to anything in Paris. One meets them everywhere
together, they dine together, walk about in company, and every evening
walk home with each other back and forth without being able to part with
one another.

Three months later, if Jack is mentioned:

"There is a drinker, a sorry fellow, a scoundrel for you. I know him
well, you may be sure. And he is not even honest, and ill-bred," etc.,
etc.

Three months later, and they are living together.

But one morning one hears that they have fought a duel, then embraced
each other, amid tears, on the duelling ground.

Just now they are the dearest friends in the world, furious with each
other half the year, abusing and loving each other by turns, squeezing
each other's hands till they almost crush the bones, and ready to run
each other through the body for a misunderstanding.

For the relations of these effeminate men are uncertain. Their temper is
by fits and starts, their delight unexpected, their affection
turn-about-face, their enthusiasm subject to eclipse. One day they love
you, the next day they will hardly look at you, for they have in fact a
girl's nature, a girl's charm, a girl's temperament, and all their
sentiments are like the affections of girls.

They treat their friends as women treat their pet dogs.

It is the dear little Toutou whom they hug, feed with sugar, allow to
sleep on the pillow, but whom they would be just as likely to throw out
of a window in a moment of impatience, whom they turn round like a sling,
holding it by the tail, squeeze in their arms till they almost strangle
it, and plunge, without any reason, in a pail of cold water.

Then, what a strange thing it is when one of these beings