Monday was a perfectly impossible day--I spent all the morning before I

returned to Versailles in writing to Maurice, telling him he must find

out all about Miss Sharp--Alathea--I felt if I told him her Christian

name it would be a clue--and yet even to assist in that, which was, at

the moment, my heart's desire, I could not overcome my personal dislike

to pronounce it to Maurice!--it seemed as something sacred to me

alone--which makes me reflect upon how egotistical we all are--and how

we would all rather fail in attaining what is our greatest wish than not

to be able to express our own personality--!

Nina had suggested before she left that I should stay in Paris and come

to the theatre with her--.

"We could have some delicious old times, Nicholas, now that you are so

much better."

Once this would have thrilled me--only last Spring! but now the

contrariness in me made me say that it was absolutely necessary that I

returned immediately to Versailles. I believe I should have answered

like that even if there had been no Miss Sharp,--Alathea--in the case,

just because I now knew Nina really wanted me to stay--every man is like

that, more or less, if only women knew!--The whole sex relation is one

of fence--until the object has been secured--and then emotion dies out

altogether, or is revived in one or the other, but very seldom in both.

Love--real love--is beyond all this I suppose, and does not depend upon

whether or no the other person excites one's desire for conquest. Love

must be wonderful--I believe Alathea--(I have actually written it

naturally this time!--) could love. I never used to think I could, at

the best of moments I have analysed my emotions, and stood aside as it

were, and measured just how much things were meaning to me.

But when I think of that scrap of a girl, with her elusive ways, her

pride, her refinement, even her little red hands--! I have a longing--a

passionate longing to hold her always near me--to know that she is

mine--that for the rest of time I should be with her, learning from her

high thoughts, comforted by her strength of character--believing in

her--respecting her--Yes, that is it--respecting her. How few women

one meets with attractions that one really respects.--One respects many

elderly ones, of course, and abstract splendid creatures, but bringing

it down to concrete facts, how few are the women who have drawn one's

admiration or excited one's desire, who at the same time one

reverenced!--Love must mean reverence--that is it.




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