酷兔英语

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She triumphed over everything, and I complacently told myself that the



woman who loses all, sacrifices the future, and makes love her only

virtue, is far above Catholic polemics.



"So she loves herself better than she loves you?" Arabella went on.

"She sets something that is not you above you. Is that love? how can



we women find anything to value in ourselves except that which you

value in us? No woman, no matter how fine a moralist she may be, is



the equal of a man. Tread upon us, kill us; never embarrass your lives

on our account. It is for us to die, for you to live, great and



honored. For us the dagger in your hand; for you our pardoning love.

Does the sun think of the gnats in his beams, that live by his light?



they stay as long as they can and when he withdraws his face they

die--"



"Or fly somewhere else," I said interrupting her.

"Yes, somewhere else," she replied, with an indifference that would



have piqued any man into using the power with which she invested him.

"Do you really think it is worthy of womanhood to make a man eat his



bread buttered with virtue, and to persuade him that religion is

incompatible with love? Am I a reprobate? A woman either gives herself



or she refuses. But to refuse and moralize is a double wrong, and is

contrary to the rule of the right in all lands. Here, you will get



only excellent sandwiches prepared by the hand of your servant

Arabella, whose sole morality is to imagine caresses no man has yet



felt and which the angels inspire."

I know nothing more destructive than the wit of an Englishwoman; she



gives it the eloquentgravity, the tone of pompous conviction with

which the British hide the absurdities of their life of prejudice.



French wit and humor, on the other hand, is like a lace with which our

women adorn the joys they give and the quarrels they invent; it is a



mental jewelry, as charming as their pretty dresses. English wit is an

acid which corrodes all those on whom it falls until it bares their



bones, which it scrapes and polishes. The tongue of a clever

Englishwoman is like that of a tiger tearing the flesh from the bone



when he is only in play. All-powerful weapon of a sneering devil,

English satire leaves a deadlypoison in the wound it makes. Arabella



chose to show her power like the sultan who, to prove his dexterity,

cut off the heads of unoffending beings with his own scimitar.



"My angel," she said, "I can talk morality too if I choose. I have

asked myself whether I commit a crime in loving you; whether I violate



the divine laws; and I find that my love for you is both natural and

pious. Why did God create some beings handsomer than others if not to



show us that we ought to adore them? The crime would be in not loving

you. This lady insults you by confounding you with other men; the laws



of morality are not applicable to you; for God has created you above

them. Am I not drawing nearer to divine love in loving you? will God



punish a poor woman for seeking the divine? Your great and luminous

heart so resembles the heavens that I am like the gnats which flutter



about the torches of a fete and burn themselves; are they to be

punished for their error? besides, is it an error? may it not be pure



worship of the light? They perish of too much piety,--if you call it

perishing to fling one's self on the breast of him we love. I have the



weakness to love you, whereas that woman has the strength to remain in

her Catholic shrine. Now, don't frown. You think I wish her ill. No, I



do not. I adore the morality which has led her to leave you free, and

enables me to win you and hold you forever--for you are mine forever,



are you not?"

"Yes."



"Forever and ever?"

"Yes."



"Ah! I have found favor in my lord! I alone have understood his worth!

She knows how to cultivate her estate, you say. Well, I leave that to



farmers; I cultivate your heart."

I try to recall this intoxicating babble, that I may picture to you



the woman as she is, confirm all I have said of her, and let you into

the secret of what happened later. But how shall I describe the



accompaniment of the words? She sought to annihilate by the passion of

her impetuous love the impressions left in my heart by the chaste and



dignified love of my Henriette. Lady Dudley had seen the countess as

plainly as the countess had seen her; each had judged the other. The



force of Arabella's attack revealed to me the extent of her fear, and

her secret admiration for her rival. In the morning I found her with






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