choice, but only that a certain correspondence and consonance is encountered on both sides at the first and only glance, or that which is ordinarily called a sympathy of blood, to which a peculiar influence of the stars generally impels.) Accordingly, the loss of the beloved one through a rival, or through death, is the greatest pain of all to those passionately in love; just because it is of a transcendental nature, since it affects him not merely as an individual, but also assails him in his essentia aeterna, in the life of the species, in whose special will and service he was here called.  This is why jealousy is so tormenting and bitter, and the giving up of the loved one the greatest of all sacrifices.  A hero is ashamed of showing any kind of emotion but that which may be the outcome of love; the reason for this is, that when he is in love it is not he, but the species which is grieving.  In Calderon’s Zenobia the Great there is a scene in the second act between Zenobia and Decius where the latter says, Cielos, luego tu me quieres?  Perdiera cien mil victorias, Volvierame, etc. (Heavens! then you love me?  For this I would sacrifice a thousand victories, etc.) In this case honour, which has hitherto outweighed every other interest, is driven out of the field directly love—­i.e., the interest of the species—­comes into play and discerns something that will be of decided advantage to itself; for the interest of the species, compared with that of the mere individual, however important this may be, is infinitely more important.  Honour, duty, and fidelity succumb to it after they have withstood every other temptation—­the menace of death even.  We find the same going on in private life; for instance, a man has less conscience when in love than in any other circumstances.  Conscience is sometimes put on one side even by people who are otherwise honest and straightforward, and infidelity recklessly committed if they are passionately in love—­i.e., when the interest of the species has taken possession of them.  It would seem, indeed, as if they believed themselves conscious of a greater authority than the interests of individuals could ever confer; this is simply because they are concerned in the interest of the species.  Chamfort’s utterance in this respect is remarkable:  Quand un homme et une femme ont l’un pour l’autre une passion violente, il me semble toujours que quelque soient les obstacles qui les separent, un mari, des parens, etc.; les deux amans sont l’un a l’autre, de par la Nature, qu’ils s’appartiennent de droit devin, malgre les lois et les conventions humaines....  From this standpoint the greater part of the Decameron seems a mere mocking and jeering on the part of the genius of the species at the rights and interests of the individual which it treads underfoot.  Inequality of rank and all similar relations are put on one side with the same indifference and disregarded by the genius of the species, if they thwart the union of two people passionately in love with one another:  it pursues its ends pertaining to endless generations, scattering human principles and scruples abroad like chaff.