Ernestine cast upon her an annihilating glance. After a short pause she said, "And if I were to do so, I should be striving for the ruin of humanity. I will not argue with you in justification of a morality which you do not understand, but I will attempt to remind you of its necessity, which has not, it seems, occurred to you. It can be done in a few words. Morality is moderation. Where it is wanting, all force exhausts itself in immensity; for moderation is the conservative force in nature, as in life. You look amazed. You do not understand me. I cannot lead you in a single hour along the dark, thorny path by which I have attained this conviction, and I know, besides, that I speak to deaf ears. But you have challenged my opinion. You shall have it, then." Ernestine's cheeks began to flush with noble indignation. "All partisans labour for their cause, which may excuse you for attempting to disturb the peace of a quiet mind, to instil poison into an innocent heart. May you never be more successful than with me! I will believe that you have been impelled by the fanaticism of your error, not by the demoniac desire to drag me, who have done nothing to harm you, down to your abyss. But, Countess Worronska, what wretched error is this upon which you are squandering your power, your glorious gifts? I know it. Do not think that what you say is new to me. It is the old threadbare philosophy of the voluptuary. It is the proclamation of all that mankind should conceal, if not for the sake of morality, then for the sake of immortal beauty, because it is monstrous if you will not call it immoral. It is what has branded the words 'emancipation of woman' with eternal disgrace. Enough! Spare me a nearer approach to so disgusting a theme. I know sufficient of it to condemn it; for it was my right and my duty, as a champion of our rights, to examine and prove all that had been done by any of my sex for the amelioration of its condition. And I have found with the deepest sorrow how widely different these women's paths are from mine, how little they understand their own dignity. What they call emancipation is degradation,--what should make them free makes them bold. Their frankness becomes shamelessness. What they call casting off ignoble fetters is licentiousness. What do they do? What do they achieve to show themselves worthy of the rights that they demand? Are such feats as smoking cigars and shooting pistols the evidences of our greatness? And what about these very rights that they demand? What does this Louisa A---- want? What do all these women want, who strut like stage-heroines about the world, filling it with shrill clamour about their misunderstood hearts? Fie upon them! They train themselves to be slaves by their struggles for emancipation,--slaves to their desires and to men; for all their bombastic phrases about freedom signify freedom of intercourse with the other sex." The countess sprang up.