Women’s sway only imposed itself by dint of patience, tact, and a nice regard for detail, and above all at the cost of genuine self-denial. How many little trials and crosses had to be endured! To make herself agreeable to the starched Spaniard and the boastful Neapolitan; to listen resignedly while a Frenchman discoursed about his hunting and his limited income, or while a Milanese or Genoese prated about his business; and then with all gentleness, with a woman’s instinctive subtlety, almost by stealth, to select among these men—to hold by an unconstrained and loyal welcome those in whom she perceived some merit, and to bind them to her by speaking their own tongue—wisdom to the wise, piety to the pious, practical interests to the practical, gaiety to the young—and thus to set them all on the path towards the desired perfection—what a task for a woman! However, all that she needed in the rudimentary stages of this education was to plant herself securely on her own rudimentary gifts—in other words, to avoid scandal and tittle-tattle. But how difficult her task became when she had to deal with men of parts, of warm affections, of ardent temperament! Then, no doubt, it became interesting, and the woman herself was reaping a profit which amply repaid her trouble. “Ladies,” cries Champier, “if you must take pleasure in hob-nobbing with men, choose at least those who can improve you and guide you.” There was no question now of retiring to the Aventine, and fancying themselves constantly in mortal peril[274]; a lady had to hold herself erect and tighten the rein on these unruly men—to know the power of a word, a gesture, a flash of silence.[275] To retire to the Aventine! That would be criminal! Speech is necessary to one who would minister to a mind diseased.