Adultery -- Fiction; Artists -- Fiction; Illegitimate children -- Fiction; Painters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
“Well—you never really know what to think about Cesca. Her version of
the Hans Hermann business is very peculiar, though I am sure Cesca has
not done anything that I would call wrong. I cannot—on the whole—see
what difference it makes to a man if his wife has had a liaison—or
several—before, provided she had been true and loyal while it lasted.
This claim of physical innocence is crude. If a woman has been really
fond of a man and has accepted his love, it is rather mean of her to
leave him without spending a gift on him.
“Naturally I should prefer my wife never to have loved anybody else
before, so, perhaps, when it is your own wife you may think differently.
Old prejudices and selfish vanity may count for something.”
Jenny sipped at her drink, and was on the point of saying something when
she checked herself. Gunnar had stopped by the window, standing with his
back to her, his hands in his trouser pockets:
“Oh, I think it is sad, Jenny—I mean when once in a while you meet a
woman who is really gifted in one way or another and takes a pleasure in
developing her gift by energetic work—feels that she is an individual
who can decide for herself what is right or wrong, and has the will
to cultivate faculties and instincts that are good and valuable and
eradicate others which are bad and unworthy of her; and then one fine
day she throws herself away on a man, gives up everything, work,
development—herself for the sake of a wretched male. Don’t you think it
sad, Jenny?”
“It is. But that is how we are made—all of us.”
“I don’t understand it. We men never do understand you, and I think it is
because we cannot get it into our heads that individuals who are supposed
to be reasonable beings are so completely devoid of self-esteem, for that
is what you are. Woman has no soul—that is a true word. You admit more or
less openly that love affairs are the only things that really interest
you.”
“There are men who do the same—at least in their behaviour.”
“Yes, but a decent man has no respect for those effeminates. Officially
at least we do not wish it to be considered anything but a natural
diversion beside our work. Or a capable man wishes to have a family
because he knows he can provide for more than himself, and wants somebody
to continue his work.”
“But surely woman has other missions in life.”
“That is mere talk—unless she wants to be a reasonable being and work,
and not content herself with being a female only. What is the good of
producing a lot of children if they are not meant to grow up for any
other purpose than continued production—if the raw material is not to be
used?”
“It may be true to a certain extent,” Jenny said, smiling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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