Thus Sophy overcame her faults; and when she grew older other tastes distracted her from this low kind of self-indulgence.  With awakening feeling greediness ceases to be the ruling passion, both with men and women.  Sophy has preserved her feminine tastes; she likes milk and sweets; she likes pastry and made-dishes, but not much meat.  She has never tasted wine or spirits; moreover, she eats sparingly; women, who do not work so hard as men, have less waste to repair.  In all things she likes what is good, and knows how to appreciate it; but she can also put up with what is not so good, or can go without it.

Sophy’s mind is pleasing but not brilliant, and thorough but not deep; it is the sort of mind which calls for no remark, as she never seems cleverer or stupider than oneself.  When people talk to her they always find what she says attractive, though it may not be highly ornamental according to modern ideas of an educated woman; her mind has been formed not only by reading, but by conversation with her father and mother, by her own reflections, and by her own observations in the little world in which she has lived.  Sophy is naturally merry; as a child she was even giddy; but her mother cured her of her silly ways, little by little, lest too sudden a change should make her self-conscious.  Thus she became modest and retiring while still a child, and now that she is a child no longer, she finds it easier to continue this conduct than it would have been to acquire it without knowing why.  It is amusing to see her occasionally return to her old ways and indulge in childish mirth and then suddenly check herself, with silent lips, downcast eyes, and rosy blushes; neither child nor woman, she may well partake of both.

Sophy is too sensitive to be always good humoured, but too gentle to let this be really disagreeable to other people; it is only herself who suffers.  If you say anything that hurts her she does not sulk, but her heart swells; she tries to run away and cry.  In the midst of her tears, at a word from her father or mother she returns at once laughing and playing, secretly wiping her eyes and trying to stifle her sobs.

Yet she has her whims; if her temper is too much indulged it degenerates into rebellion, and then she forgets herself.  But give her time to come round and her way of making you forget her wrong-doing is almost a virtue.  If you punish her she is gentle and submissive, and you see that she is more ashamed of the fault than the punishment.  If you say nothing, she never fails to make amends, and she does it so frankly and so readily that you cannot be angry with her.  She would kiss the ground before the lowest servant and would make no fuss about it; and as soon as she is forgiven, you can see by her delight and her caresses that a load is taken off her heart.  In a word, she endures patiently the wrong-doing of others, and she is eager to atone for her own.  This amiability is natural to her sex when unspoiled.  Woman is made to submit to man and to endure even injustice at his hands.  You will never bring young lads to this; their feelings rise in revolt against injustice; nature has not fitted them to put up with it.