A man imagines he wins by strenuous a.s.sault. The woman knows the victory was due to surrender.
(1) Etymologically as well as metaphorically--and veritably.
Wouldst thou ask ought of a woman? Question her eyes: they are vastly more voluble than her tongue. Indeed,
There is no question too subtle, too delicate, too recondite, or too rash, for human eyes to ask or answer. And
He who has not learned the language of the eyes, has yet to learn the alphabet of love. Besides,
Love speaks two languages: one with the lips; the other with the eyes.
(There is really a third; but this is Pentecostal.) At all events,
Lovers always talk in a cryptic tongue.
There is but one universal language: the ocular--not Volapuk nor Esperanto is as intelligible or as efficacious as this.
No woman can be coerced into love,--though she may be coerced into marriage. And
Man, the clumsy wielder of one blunt weapon, often enough stands agape at his own powerlessness before the invulnerable woman of his desire.
Indeed,
The battle between the coquettish maid and determined man is like the battle between the Retiarius and the Mirmillio. The coquetry ensnares the man as with a net against which his sword is useless.
A woman"s emotions are as practical as a man"s reason.
A man"s emotions are never practical. This is why,
In the emotional matter of love, men and women so often lash. And perhaps
It is a beneficial thing for the race that a woman"s emotions are practical. For
If neither the man nor the woman curbed the mettlesome Pegasus "Emotion", methinks the colts and fillies would want for hay and oats.
It is a moot question which is the more fatally fascinating: the uniformed nurse or the weeded widow. But
Who has yet discovered the secret springs of fascination? For example,
How is it that certain eyes and lips will enthrall, while others leave us cold and inert?
Does the potency lie in the eyes and the lips, or is there some inscrutable and psychic power? At all events, who will explain how it is that
A man will sometimes forsake the most beautiful of wives and a woman will forsake the kindest of husbands to follow recklessly one who admits no comparison with the one forsaken? All we can say is that
The potency of personality exceeds the potency of beauty. For, Powerful as is physical charm, it counts not for all in the matter of love. Yet what it may be that does count, and how and why it does count, no man living shall say. For
Is even love aware of all its seeks? And
Is it given to any to grant all that love beseeches? And yet
Were all love sought bestowed, what sequel?
Perhaps "t were well to leave love but semi-satisfied. At bottom the real question is this: What will win and keep me another heart? But
How to win and keep another heart, that is a thing has to be found out for oneself--if it be discoverable. And always by the experimental method. Since
In matters amatory, there is no a priori reasoning possible. All we know is that
There is nothing more potent than pa.s.sion. And
The chasm, which seems to innocence to yawn between virtue and frailty, is leapt by that Pegasus, Pa.s.sion, at a bound--but he blinds his rider in the feat.
In spite of the poesy of love, deeds are more potent than words; --though perhaps it is well to pave the way for the one by the other.
In spite, too of the piety of love, love laughs at promises--that is, the promises that affect it.
There is one miracle that women can always perform, and always it astonishes the man; it is this: to change from the recipient into the appellant. That is to say,
When woman, usually regarded as the receiver, becomes the giver,--or rather the demander,--man"s wonderment surpa.s.ses words. And let it be remembered that
There is no re-crossing this Rubicon.
Mistrust a prolonged and obdurate resistance. Either you are out-cla.s.sed, or you are out-experienced. And, besides,
Surrender after prolonged resistance rarely is brought about by emotion.
A woman never really quite detests daring. This is why Much is a forgiving a daring man. So, too,
Much is forgiven a pretty woman ?by the men.
If the beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water, the beginning of love is as when one kindleth a fire.