“The philosopher kindly consented to decide the matter, and consequently gave the lady in question due study. Ultimately he announced his decision. “‘Both sides are right,’ he said. ‘She is the ugliest, stupidest, most aggressive creature on earth; but masculine indifference and dislike have thrown such a halo about her that all women see her as beautiful and charming.’” During the recital of this tale, a flush had risen on Egeria’s cheek, and she tapped her foot with growing impatience upon the floor. Barely had he finished when she cried, explosively: “I hate men! Your fable proves nothing but the ineffable conceit of your sex!” The senator pursued his advantage. “I saw a similar remark in a book I was reading the other day”--pleasantly. “‘I hate men,’ said one woman to another; ‘I wish they were all at the bottom of the sea.’ “‘Then,’ replied the woman to whom she spoke, ‘we would all be purchasing diving bells.’ “But”--hastily, as Egeria half rose--“you really don’t consider women judges of what constitutes feminine beauty?” “The only judges. We are not dazzled, hypnotized, by a mere matter of exquisite coloring, the fugitive glance of too expressive eyes. We are able to bring a calm, unbiased scrutiny to bear upon it, to fully analyze it. _We_ do not confuse beauty with charm.” “Are the two, then, distinct?” he pondered. “Are they distinct?” repeated Egeria, scornfully. “Are they distinct? Some one--a man, of course--has said that if Cleopatra had been without a front tooth the whole history of the world would have been changed; and Heine, you remember, when asked about Madame de Staël, remarked that, had Helen looked so, Troy would not have known a siege. Absurd! The sirens of this world who have swayed men’s hearts and imaginations have never been dependent on their front teeth or their back hair. If Cleopatra had lost a whole row, Antony and every other man who knew her would have insisted that women in the full possession of their molars were repulsive.” “Ah!” cried the senator, triumphantly, “your words justify me. Beauty is some subtle essence of the soul, as I said.” A faint, malicious sparkle brightened Egeria’s eyes. “Really, now, would you call the sirens of this world soulful creatures? They were and are psychologists, intuitive diviners of a man’s moods, capable of meeting him on every side of his nature; but----” “Do you mean,” interrupted the senator, his eyes reflecting the sparkle of hers, “that their dominion over us is through an intellectual comprehension of our moods?” “Good heavens, no!” disclaimed Egeria, in shocked tones. “Who said anything about the intellectual faculties of woman? I hear enough of them at my club. What I am trying to get at is that beauty without charm has always received a very frigid appreciation. Men prate of it, adore it, yawn, and--leave it. Of the two, they infinitely prefer charm without beauty. Now, senator, what is it you really admire in women?”