20 February 1921

20 February 1921

Villa Isola Bella, Menton, France

        The woman.

What was there about that publishing couple in cane chairs on the other side of the table. He was tall, lean, with a long clean-shaven face that looked dreamy. And she was one of those women - one of those women who still exist in spite of everything. Then they are rare, but were they ever anything but rare? Where do they come from & what happens to them? Have they ever been girls? Do they ever become old ladies. One cannot imagine them except between thirty & forty. They are exquisite, elusive, flawless-looking, with slow movements & perfect hands, perfect hair. When they travel their luggage is a paper of parma violets or a few long-stemmed yellow roses - & in the background hovers the ideal maid with  the russian leather dressing case & the fur coat tied with oyster brocade. Their jewel is pearls - pearl earrings, a string of pearls, pearls on their fingers. And the curious thing is that whatever they say - & they seldom say anything very remarkable - I always sleep in my pearls or I am afraid I know very little about modern music or I always think it's so clever to be able to write - one feels charmed, gratified, and even a little carried away. Why?

[KM Notebooks, undated.]