Often a clever man, paying court to a woman, just sets her thinking of love in a sentimental frame of mind. She receives this clever man kindly for giving her this pleasure--he conceives hopes. But one fine day that woman meets the man, who makes her feel what the other has described. I do not know what are the effects of a man's jealousy on the heart of the woman he loves. Displayed by an admirer who wearies her, jealousy must inspire a supreme disgust, and it may even turn to hatred, if the man he is jealous of is nicer than the jealous one; for we want jealousy, said Madame de Coulanges, only from those of whom we could be jealous. If the jealous one is liked, but has no real claims, his jealousy may offend that feminine pride so hard to keep in humour or even to recognise. Jealousy may please women of pride, as a new way of showing them their power. Jealousy can please as a new way of giving proof of love. It can also offend the modesty of a woman who is over-refined. [Pg 131] It can please as a sign of the lover's hot blood--_ferrum est quod amant_. But note that it is hot blood they love, and not courage _à la_ Turenne, which is quite compatible with a cold heart. One of the consequences of crystallisation is that a woman can never say "yes" to the lover, to whom she has been unfaithful, if she ever means to make anything of him. Such is the pleasure of continuing to enjoy the perfect image we have formed of the object of our attachment, that until that fatal "yes"-- L'on va chercher bien loin, plutot que de mourir, Quelque prétexte ami pour vivre et pour souffrir. (_André Chénier_.[3]) Everyone in France knows the anecdote of Mademoiselle de Sommery, who, caught in flagrant delict by her lover, flatly denied the fact. On his protesting, she replied: "Very well, I see you don't love me any more: you believe what you see before what I tell you." To make it up with an idol of a mistress, who has been unfaithful, is to set yourself to undo with the point of a dagger a crystallisation incessantly forming afresh. Love has got to die, and your heart will feel the cruel pang of every stage in its agony. It is one of the saddest dispositions of this passion and of life. You must be strong enough to make it up only as friends. [1] You compare the branch adorned with diamonds to the branch left bare, and contrast adds sting to your memories. [2] e. g. the love of Alfieri for that great English lady (Lady Ligonier) who also philandered with her footman and prettily signed herself Penelope. (_Vita_, Epoca III, Chaps. X and XI.) [3] ["Sooner than die, we will go very far in search of some friendly pretext to live and suffer."--Tr.] [Pg 132] CHAPTER XXXVII ROXANA