“Thanks to that sort of coquetry, for, indeed, that is genuine coquetry,” continued Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente; “the lover who, a little while since, was puffed up with pride, in a minute afterwards is suffering at every pore of his vanity and self-esteem. He was, perhaps, already beginning to assume the airs of a conqueror, but now he retreats defeated; he was about to assume an air of protection towards us, but he is obliged to prostrate himself once more. The result of all this is, that, instead of having a husband who is jealous and troublesome, free from restraint in his conduct towards us, we have a lover always trembling in our presence, always fascinated by our attractions, always submissive; and for this simple reason, that he finds the same woman never twice of the same mind. Be convinced, therefore, of the advantages of coquetry. Possessing that, one reigns a queen among women in cases where Providence has withheld that precious faculty of holding one’s heart and mind in check.” “How clever you are,” said Montalais, “and how well you understand the duty women owe themselves!” “I am only settling a case of individual happiness,” said Athenais modestly; “and defending myself, like all weak, loving dispositions, against the oppressions of the stronger.” “La Vallière does not say a word.” “Does she not approve of what we are saying?” “Nay; only I do not understand it,” said Louise. “You talk like people not called upon to live in this world of ours.” “And very pretty your world is,” said Montalais. “A world,” returned Athenais, “in which men worship a woman until she has fallen,--and insult her when she has fallen.” “Who spoke to you of falling?” said Louise. “Yours is a new theory, then; will you tell us how you intend to resist yielding to temptation, if you allow yourself to be hurried away by feelings of affection?”