element of society and for accepting you on an equal footing. In my
opinion, woman is the most dishonorable and cowardly being to be
found. Nay, and that is where her charm lies. Where would be the
pleasure of hunting a tame thing? When once a woman has inspired a
man's passion, she is to him for ever sacred; in his eyes she is
hedged round by an imprescriptible prerogative. In men gratitude for
past delights is eternal. Though he should find his mistress grown old
or unworthy, the woman still has rights over his heart; but to you
women the man you have loved is as nothing to you; nay, more, he is
unpardonable in one thing--he lives on! You dare not own it, but you
all have in your hearts the feeling which that popular calumny called
tradition ascribes to the Lady of the Tour de Nesle: "What a pity it
is that we cannot live on love as we live on fruit, and that when we
have had our fill, nothing should survive but the remembrance of
pleasure!"'

"'God has, no doubt, reserved such perfect bliss for Paradise,' said
she. 'But,' she added, 'if your argument seems to you very witty, to
me it has the disadvantage of being false. What can those women be who
give themselves up to a succession of loves?' she asked, looking at me
as the Virgin in Ingres' picture looks at Louis XIII. offering her his
kingdom.

"'You are an actress in good faith,' said I, 'for you gave me a look
just now which would make the fame of an actress. Still, lovely as you
are, you have loved; _ergo_, you forget.'

"'I!' she exclaimed, evading my question, 'I am not a woman. I am a
nun, and seventy-two years old!'