“Why not?” she said, “and take note of what I am about to say to you. _Never feel secure with the woman you love,_ for there are more dangers in woman’s nature than you imagine. Women are neither as _good_ as their admirers and defenders maintain, nor as _bad_ as their enemies make them out to be. _Woman’s character is characterlessness._ The best woman will momentarily go down into the mire, and the worst unexpectedly rises to deeds of greatness and goodness and puts to shame those that despise her. No woman is so good or so bad, but that at any moment she is capable of the most diabolical as well as of the most divine, of the filthiest as well as of the purest, thoughts, emotions, and actions. In spite of all the advances of civilization, woman has remained as she came out of the hand of nature. She has the nature of a savage, who is faithful or faithless, magnanimous or cruel, according to the impulse that dominates at the moment. Throughout history it has always been a serious deep culture which has produced moral character. Man even when he is selfish or evil always follows _principles,_ woman never follows anything but _impulses._ Don’t ever forget that, and never feel secure with the woman you love.” * * * * * Her friend has left. At last an evening alone with her again. It seems as if Wanda had saved up all the love, which had been kept from her, for this superlative evening; never had she been so kind, so near, so full of tenderness. What happiness to cling to her lips, and to die away in her arms! In a state of relaxation and wholly mine, her head rests against my breast, and with drunken rapture our eyes seek each other. I cannot yet believe, comprehend, that this woman is mine, wholly mine. “She is right on one point,” Wanda began, without moving, without opening her eyes, as if she were asleep. “Who?” She remained silent. “Your friend?” She nodded. “Yes, she is right, you are not a man, you are a dreamer, a charming cavalier, and you certainly would be a priceless slave, but I cannot imagine you as husband.” I was frightened. “What is the matter? You are trembling?” “I tremble at the thought of how easily I might lose you,” I replied. “Are you made less happy now, because of this?” she replied. “Does it rob you of any of your joys, that I have belonged to another before I did to you, that others after you will possess me, and would you enjoy less if another were made happy simultaneously with you?” “Wanda!” “You see,” she continued, “that would be a way out. You won’t ever lose me then. I care deeply for you and intellectually we are harmonious, and I should like to live with you always, if in addition to you I might have—” “What an idea,” I cried. “You fill me with a sort of horror.” “Do you love me any the less?” “On the contrary.”