ed to meet in the first that met
my eyes; but in each and all I saw a queen, and as queens must make the
first advances to their lovers, they must draw near to me--to me, so
sickly, shy, and poor. For her, who should take pity on me, my heart
held in store such gratitude over and beyond love, that I had worshiped
her her whole life long. Later, my observations have taught me bitter
truths.

"In this way, dear Emile, I ran the risk of remaining companionless for
good. The incomprehensible bent of women's minds appears to lead them to
see nothing but the weak points in a clever man, and the strong points
of a fool. They feel the liveliest sympathy with the fool's good
qualities, which perpetually flatter their own defects; while they
find the man of talent hardly agreeable enough to compensate for his
shortcomings. All capacity is a sort of intermittent fever, and no woman
is anxious to share in its discomforts only; they look to find in their
lovers the wherewithal to gratify their own vanity. It is themselves
that they love in us! But the artist, poor and proud, along with his
endowment of creative power, is furnished with an aggressive egotism!
Everything about him is involved in I know not what whirlpool of his
ideas, and even his mistress must gyrate along with them. How is a
woman, spoilt with praise, to believe in the love of a man like that?
Will she go to seek him out? That sort of lover has not the leisure to
sit beside a sofa and give himself up to the sentimental simperings
that women are so fond of, and on which the false and unfeeling pride
themselves. He cannot spare the time from his work, and how can he
afford to humble himself and go a-masquerading! I was ready to give my
life once and for all, but I could not degrade it in detail. Besides,
there is something indescribably paltry in a stockbroker's tactics, who
runs on errands for some insipid affected woman; all this disgusts an
artist. Love in the abstract is not enough for a great man in poverty;
he has need of its utmost devotion. The frivolous creatures who spend
their lives in trying on cashmeres, or make themselves into clothes-pegs
to hang the fashions from, exact the devotion which is not theirs to
give; for them, love means the pleasure of ruling and not of obeying.
She who is really a wife, one in heart, flesh, and bone, must follow
wherever he leads, in whom her life, her strength, her pride, and
happiness are centered. Ambitious men need tho