Then, very slowly, he said: 

“You are, as they have been, the prisoners of Antinea.  And vengeance is due Antinea.”

“Vengeance?” said Morhange, who had regained his self-possession.  “For what, I beg to ask?  What have the lieutenant and I done to Atlantis?  How have we incurred her hatred?”

“It is an old quarrel, a very old quarrel,” the Professor replied gravely.  “A quarrel which long antedates you, M. Morhange.”

“Explain yourself, I beg of you, Professor.”

“You are Man.  She is a Woman,” said the dreamy voice of M. Le Mesge.  “The whole matter lies there.”

“Really, sir, I do not see ... we do not see.”

“You are going to understand.  Have you really forgotten to what an extent the beautiful queens of antiquity had just cause to complain of the strangers whom fortune brought to their borders?  The poet, Victor Hugo, pictured their detestable acts well enough in his colonial poem called la Fille d’O-Taiti.  Wherever we look, we see similar examples of fraud and ingratitude.  These gentlemen made free use of the beauty and the riches of the lady.  Then, one fine morning, they disappeared.  She was indeed lucky if her lover, having observed the position carefully, did not return with ships and troops of occupation.”

“Your learning charms me,” said Morhange.  “Continue.”

“Do you need examples?  Alas! they abound.  Think of the cavalier fashion in which Ulysses treated Calypso, Diomedes Callirhoe.  What should I say of Theseus and Ariadne?  Jason treated Medea with inconceivable lightness.  The Romans continued the tradition with still greater brutality.  Aenaeus, who has many characteristics in common with the Reverend Spardek, treated Dido in a most undeserved fashion.  Caesar was a laurel-crowned blackguard in his relations with the divine Cleopatra.  Titus, that hypocrite Titus, after having lived a whole year in Idummea at the expense of the plaintive Berenice, took her back to Rome only to make game of her.  It is time that the sons of Japhet paid this formidable reckoning of injuries to the daughters of Shem.

“A woman has taken it upon herself to re-establish the great Hegelian law of equilibrium for the benefit of her sex.  Separated from the Aryan world by the formidable precautions of Neptune, she draws the youngest and bravest to her.  Her body is condescending, while her spirit is inexorable.  She takes what these bold young men can give her.  She lends them her body, while her soul dominates them.  She is the first sovereign who has never been made the slave of passion, even for a moment.  She has never been obliged to regain her self-mastery, for she never has lost it.  She is the only woman who has been able to disassociate those two inextricable things, love and voluptuousness.”

M. Le Mesge paused a moment and then went on.

“Once every day, she comes to this vault.  She stops before the niches; she meditates before the rigid statues; she touches the cold bosoms, so burning when she knew them.  Then, after dreaming before the empty niche where the next victim soon will sleep his eternal sleep in a cold case of orichalch, she returns nonchalantly where he is waiting for her.”