XLII

Surface Indications in Women are Not Always Guides

What, I censure you, Marquis?  I will take good care not to do so, I assure you.  You have not been willing to follow my advice, and hence, I am not at all sorry for having ill-used you.  You thought you had nothing to do but to treat the Countess roughly.  Her easy fashion of treating love, her accessibility, her indulgence for your numerous faults, the freedom with which she mocks the Platonicians, all this encouraged you to hope that she was not very severe, but you have just discovered your mistake.  All this outward show was nothing but deceitful and perfidious allurements.  To take advantage thus of the good faith of any one—­I must confess that it is a conduct which cries for vengeance; she deserves all the names you give her.

But do you wish me to talk to you with my customary frankness?  You have fallen into an error which is common among men.  They judge women from the surface.  They imagine that a woman whose virtue is not always on the qui vive, will be easier to overcome than a prude; even experience does not undeceive them.  How often are they exposed to a severity all the keener that it was unexpected?  Their custom then, is to accuse women of caprice and oddity; all of you use the same language, and say:  Why such equivocal conduct?  When a woman has decided to remain intractable, why surprise the credulity of a lover?  Why not possess an exterior conformable to her sentiments?  In a word, why permit a man to love her, when she does not care ever to see him again?  Is this not being odd and false?  Is it not trifling with sentiment?

You are in error, gentlemen, you are imposing upon your vanity, it is in vain you try to put us on a false scent, that, of itself, is offensive, and you talk of sentiment as ennobling a thing that resembles it very little.  Are not you, yourselves, to blame if we treat you thus?  However little intelligence a woman may have, she knows that the strongest tie to bind you to her is anticipation, wherefore, you must let her lay the blame on you.  If she were to arm herself from the first with a severity that would indicate that she is invincible, from that time, no lovers for her.  What a solitude would be hers, what shame even?  For a woman of the most pronounced virtue is no less sensible of the desire to please, she makes her glory consist in securing homage and adoration.  But without ignoring the fact that those she expects attention from are induced to bestow them only for reasons that wound her pride; unable to reform this defect, the only part she can take is to use it to her advantage to keep them by her side; she knows how to keep them, and not destroy the very hopes which, however, she is determined never to gratify.  With care and skill she succeeds.  Hence, as soon as a woman understands her real interests she does not fail to say to herself what the Countess confessed to me at our last interview: