Monday was a perfectly impossible day--I spent all the morning before I
returned to Versailles in writing to Maurice, telling him he must find
out all about Miss Sharp--Alathea--I felt if I told him her Christian
name it would be a clue--and yet even to assist in that, which was, at
the moment, my heart's desire, I could not overcome my personal dislike
to pronounce it to Maurice!--it seemed as something sacred to me
alone--which makes me reflect upon how egotistical we all are--and how
we would all rather fail in attaining what is our greatest wish than not
to be able to express our own personality--!

Nina had suggested before she left that I should stay in Paris and come
to the theatre with her--.

"We could have some delicious old times, Nicholas, now that you are so
much better."

Once this would have thrilled me--only last Spring! but now the
contrariness in me made me say that it was absolutely necessary that I
returned immediately to Versailles. I believe I should have answered
like that even if there had been no Miss Sharp,--Alathea--in the case,
just because I now knew Nina really wanted me to stay--every man is like
that, more or less, if only women knew!--The whole sex relation is one
of fence--until the object has been secured--and then emotion dies out
altogether, or is revived in one or the other, but very seldom in both.
Love--real love--is beyond all this I suppose, and does not depend upon
whether or no the other person excites one's desire for conquest. Love
must be wonderful--I believe Alathea--(I have actually written it
naturally this time!--) could love. I never used to think I could, at
the best of moments I have analysed my emotions, and stood aside as it
were, and measured just how much things were meaning to me.