did you not tell me she is a pearl of virtue? I know she thinks you
handsome; pure depravity! I, I love your soul! for let me tell you,
my friend, you are ugly compared to many shepherds on the Campagna of
Rome," etc., etc.

Such speeches may surprise the reader, but they were part of a system
profoundly meditated by Beatrix in this her third incarnation,--for at
each passion a woman becomes another being and advances one step more
into profligacy, the only word which properly renders the effect of the
experience given by such adventures. Now, the Marquise de Rochefide had
sat in judgment on herself before the mirror. Clever women are never
deceived about themselves; they count their wrinkles, they assist at the
birth of their crow's-feet, they know themselves by heart, and even
own it by the greatness of their efforts at preservation. Therefore to
struggle successfully against a splendid young woman, to carry away from
her six triumphs a week, Beatrix had recourse to the knowledge and the
science of courtesans. Without acknowledging to herself the baseness of
this plan, led away to the employment of such means by a Turkish
passion for Calyste's beauty, she had resolved to make him think himself
unpleasant, ugly, ill-made, and to behave as if she hated him. No system
is more fruitful with men of a conquering nature. To such natures the
presence of repugnance to be vanquished is the renewal of the triumph of
the first day on all succeeding days. And it is something even better.
It is flattery in the guise of dislike. A man then says to himself, "I
am irresistible," or "My love is all-powerful because it conquers her
repugnance." If you deny this principle, divined by all coquettes and
courtesans throughout all social zones, you may as well reject all
seekers after knowledge, all delvers into secrets, repulsed through
years in their duel with hidden causes. Beatrix added to the use of
contempt as a moral piston, a constant comparison of her own poetic,
comfortable home with the hotel du Guenic. All deserted wives who
abandon themselves in despair, neglect also their surroundings,
so discouraged are they. On this, Madame de Rochefide counted, and
presently began an underhand attack on the luxury of the faubourg
Saint-Germain, which she characterized as stupid.

The scene of reconciliation, in which Beatrix made Calyste swear and
reswear hatred to the wife, who, she said, was playing comedy, took
place in a perfect bower