I began to find something like dislike to
mademoiselle growing up in my mind; but I spoke to her of the Thesigers
no more.
CHAPTER VII.
It seems an unmanly thing to write of a woman--my own face flushes hotly
as I write the words--but to make my story plain the truth must be
told. I could not help seeing that Coralie d'Aubergne was growing to
like me very much.
To describe how a man woos a woman is a task pleasant enough. It is
natural and beautiful; he is in his place then and she in hers; but who
would not shrink from the hateful task of describing how a woman woos a
man?
God bless all women, say I! My life has been a long one, and my
experience of them bids me say they are almost all angels. I have found
them true, tender and earnest. I could tell stories of women's quiet
heroism that would move any one's heart. God bless them, one and
all--they are the chief comfort in life!
Still even I, who love and respect them so much, am compelled to own
that there are women wanting in purity and goodness, in modesty and
reserve. I grieve to say Coralie d'Aubergne was one of them. She pursued
me, and yet it was all so quietly done that she left me no room to
speak--no ground on which to interfere.
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