volt
against everything, a seeker of truth and a despiser of popular
prejudices, he had a clear and paradoxical manner of expressing his
opinions which closed the mouths of self-satisfied fools and of those
that were discontented without knowing why. People said: "That old fool
of a Rade," or else: "That harebrained Rade"; and the slowness, of his
promotion seemed to indicate the reason, according to commonplace minds.
His freedom of speech often made--his colleagues tremble; they asked
themselves with terror how he had been able to keep his place as long as
he had. As soon as they had seated themselves, Monsieur Perdrix thanked
his "collaborators" in a neat little speech, promising them his
protection, the more valuable as his power grew, and he ended with a
stirring peroration in which he thanked and glorified a government so
liberal and just that it knows how to seek out the worthy from among the
humble.

Monsieur Capitaine, the assistant chief, answered in the name of the
office, congratulated, greeted, exalted, sang the praises of all; frantic
applause greeted these two bits of eloquence. After that they settled
down seriously to the business of eating.

Everything went well up to the dessert; lack of conversation went
unnoticed. But after the coffee a discussion arose, and Monsieur Rade let
himself loose and soon began to overstep the bounds of discretion.

They naturally discussed love, and a breath of chivalry intoxicated this
room full of bureaucrats; they praised and exalted the superior beauty of
woman, the delicacy of hex soul, her aptitude for exquisite things, the
correctness of her judgment, and the refinement of her sentiments.
Monsieur Rade began to protest, energetically refusing to credit the
so-called "fair" sex with all the qualities they ascribed to it; then,
amidst the general indignation, he quoted some authors:

"Schopenhauer, gentlemen, Schopenhauer, the great philosopher, revered by
all Germany, says: 'Man's intelligence must have been terribly deadened
by love in order to call this sex with the small waist, narrow shoulders,
large hips and crooked legs, the fair sex. All its beauty lies in the
instinct of love. Instead of calling it the fair, it would have been
better to call it the unaesthetic sex. Women have neither the
appreciation nor the knowledge of music, any more than they have of
poetry or of the plastic arts; with them it is merely an apelike
imitation, pure pretence, affectatio