ility of it
happening at the Vatican nowadays. And the most astounding thing is
this: that if all the dead and gone popes were alive, and the soul of
the saintly Pontiff of to-day were to pass from him, the one who could
most undetected occupy his simulacrum would be this very Thomas of
Sarzana.

"Pardon me, my dear Judith," said I. "But this is a story lying somewhat
up one of the back-waters of history. Where did you come across it?"

"I saw it the other day in a French comic paper," replied Judith.

I really don't know which to admire the more: the inconsequent way in
which the French toss about scholarship, or the marvellous power of
assimilation possessed by Judith.

Before we separated she returned to the subject of Carlotta.

"Am I to see this young creature?" she asked. "That is just as you
choose," said I.

"Oh! as far as I am concerned, my dear Marcus, I am perfectly
indifferent," replied Judith, assuming the supercilious expression with
which women invariably try to mask inordinate curiosity.

"Then," said I, with a touch of malice, "there is no reason why you
should make her acquaintance."

"I should be able to see through her tricks and put you on your guard."

"Against what?"

She shrugged her shoulders as if it were vain to waste breath on so
obtuse a person.

"You had better bring her round some afternoon," she said.

Have I acted wisely in confessing Carlotta to Judith? And why do I use
the word "confess"? Far from having committed an evil action, I consider
I have exhibited exemplary altruism. Did I want a "young savage from
Syria" to come and interfere with my perfectly ordered life? Judith
does not realise this. I had a presentiment of the prejudice she would
conceive against the poor girl, and now it has been verified. I wish I
had held my tongue. As Judith, for some feminine reason known only to
herself, has steadily declined to put her foot inside my house, she
might very well have remained unsuspicious of Carlotta's existence. And
why not? The fact of the girl being my pensioner does not in the least
affect the personality which I bring to Judith. The idea is absurd. Why
wasn't I wise before the event? I might have spared myself considerable
worry.

A letter from my Aunt Jessica enclosing a card for a fancy dress ball at
the Empress Rooms. The preposterous lady!

"Do come. It is not right for a young man to lead the life of a recluse
of seventy. Here we are in the height of th