an
irresistible sway over every man who owed fealty to beauty.

I was amongst her liegemen, and am so still, but the incense is all gone
and the censer of no value.

I could not help reflecting on the sort of glamour which made me fall in
love with one who seemed all new to me, while I loved her in exactly the
same manner as I had loved her predecessor. But in reality there was no
real novelty; the piece was the same, though the title might be altered.
But when I had won what I coveted, did I realize that I was going over
old ground? Did I complain? Did I think myself deceived?

Not one whit; and doubtless for this reason, that whilst I enjoyed the
piece I kept my eyes fixed on the title which had so taken my fancy. If
this be so, of what use is title at all? The title of a book, the name of
a dish, the name of a town--of what consequence are all these when what
one wants is to read the book, to eat the dish, and to see the town.

The comparison is a sophism. Man becomes amorous through the senses,
which, touch excepted, all reside in the head. In love a beautiful face
is a matter of the greatest moment.

A beautiful female body might well excite a man to carnal indulgence,
even though the head were covered, but never to real love. If at the
moment of physical delight the covering were taken away, and a face of
hideous, revolting ugliness disclosed, one would fly in horror, in spite
of the beauties of the woman's body.

But the contrary does not hold good. If a man has fallen in love with a
sweet, enchanting face, and succeeds in lifting the veil of the sanctuary
only to find deformities there, still the face wins the day, atones for
all, and the sacrifice is consummated.

The face is thus paramount, and hence it has come to be agreed that
women's bodies shall be covered and their faces disclosed; while men's
clothes are arranged in such a way that women can easily guess at what
they cannot see.

This arrangement is undoubtedly to the advantage of women; art can
conceal the imperfections of the face, and even make it appear beautiful,
but no cosmetic can dissemble an ugly breast, stomach, or any other part
of the man body.

In spite of this, I confess that the phenomerides of Sparta were in the
right, like all women who, though they possess a fine figure, have a
repulsive face; in spite of the beauty of the piece, the title drives
spectators away. Still an interesting face is an inseparable accident of
love.