Among Alvan’s gifts the understanding of women did not rank high.  He was too robust, he had been too successful.  Your very successful hero regards them as nine-pins destined to fall, the whole tuneful nine, at a peculiar poetical twist of the bowler’s wrist, one knocking down the other—­figuratively, for their scruples, or for their example with their sisters.  His tastes had led him into the avenues of success, and as he had not encountered grand resistances, he entertained his opinion of their sex.  The particular maxim he cherished was, to stake everything on his making a favourable first impression:  after which single figure, he said, all your empty naughts count with women for hundreds, thousands, millions:  noblest virtues are but sickly units.  He would have stared like any Philistine at the tale of their capacity to advance to a likeness unto men in their fight with the world.  Women for him were objects to be chased, the politician’s relaxation, taken like the sportsman’s business, with keen relish both for the pursuit and the prey, and a view of the termination of his pastime.  Their feelings he could appreciate during the time when they flew and fell, perhaps a little longer; but the change in his own feelings withdrew him from the communion of sentiment.  This is the state of men who frequent the avenues of success.  At present he was thinking of a wife, and he approved the epistle to the baroness cordially.

‘I do think it a nice kind of letter, and quite humble enough,’ said Clotilde.

He agreed, ’Yes, yes:  she knows already that this is really serious with me.’

So much for the baroness.

Now for their parting.  A parting that is no worse than the turning of a page to a final meeting is made light of, but felt.  Reason is all in our favour, and yet the gods are jealous of the bliss of mortals; the slip between the cup and the lip is emotionally watched for, even though it be not apprehended, when the cup trembles for very fulness.  Clotilde required reassuring and comforting:  ’I am certain you will prevail; you must; you cannot be resisted; I stand to witness to the fact,’ she sighed in a languor:  ’only, my people are hard to manage.  I see more clearly now, that I have imposed on them; and they have given away by a sort of compact so long as I did nothing decisive.  That I see.  But, then again, have I not your spirit in me now?  What has ever resisted you?—­Then, as I am Alvan’s wife, I share his heart with his fortunes, and I do not really dread the scenes from anticipating failure, still-the truth is, I fear I am three parts an actress, and the fourth feels itself a shivering morsel to face reality.  No, I do not really feel it, but press my hand, I shall be true—­I am so utterly yours:  and because I have such faith in you.  You never, yet have failed’

‘Never:  and it is impossible for me to conceive it,’ said Alvan thoughtfully.

His last word to her on her departure was ‘Courage!’ Hers to him was conveyed by the fondest of looks.  She had previously said ‘To-morrow!’ to remind him of his appointment to be with her on the morrow, and herself that she would not long stand alone.  She did not doubt of her courage while feasting on the beauty of one of the acknowledged strong men of earth.  She kissed her hand, she flung her heart to him from the waving fingers.