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word； at the slightest impudent gesture or insolent look。 I declare；
on my soul and conscience； that the attainment of power； or of a great
name in literature； seemed to me an easier victory than a success with
some young； witty； and gracious lady of high degree。
〃So I found the tumult of my heart； my feelings； and my creeds all at
variance with the axioms of society。 I had plenty of audacity in my
character； but none in my manner。 Later； I found out that women did
not like to be implored。 I have from afar adored many a one to whom I
devoted a soul proof against all tests； a heart to break； energy that
shrank from no sacrifice and from no torture； THEY accepted fools whom
I would not have engaged as hall porters。 How often； mute and
motionless； have I not admired the lady of my dreams； swaying in the
dance； given up my life in thought to one eternal caress； expressed
all my hopes in a look； and laid before her； in my rapture； a young
man's love； which should outstrip all fables。 At some moments I was
ready to barter my whole life for one single night。 Well； as I could
never find a listener for my impassioned proposals； eyes to rest my
own upon； a heart made for my heart； I lived on in all the sufferings
of impotent force that consumes itself； lacking either opportunity or
courage or experience。 I despaired； maybe； of making myself
understood； or I feared to be understood but too well； and yet the
storm within me was ready to burst at every chance courteous look。 In
spite of my readiness to take the semblance of interest in look or
word for a tenderer solicitude； I dared neither to speak nor to be
silent seasonably。 My words grew insignificant； and my silence stupid；
by sheer stress of emotion。 I was too ingenuous； no doubt； for that
artificial life； led by candle…light； where every thought is expressed
in conventional phrases； or by words that fashion dictates； and not
only so； I had not learned how to employ speech that says nothing； and
silence that says a great deal。 In short； I concealed the fires that
consumed me； and with such a soul as women wish to find； with all the
elevation of soul that they long for； and a mettle that fools plume
themselves upon； all women have been cruelly treacherous to me。
〃So in my simplicity I admired the heroes of this set when they
bragged about their conquests； and never suspected them of lying。 No
doubt it was a mistake to wish for a love that springs for a word's
sake； to expect to find in the heart of a vain； frivolous woman；
greedy for luxury and intoxicated with vanity； the great sea of
passion that surged tempestuously in my own breast。 Oh！ to feel that
you were born to love； to make some woman's happiness； and yet to find
not one； not even a noble and courageous Marceline； not so much as an
old Marquise！ Oh！ to carry a treasure in your wallet； and not find
even some child； or inquisitive young girl； to admire it！ In my
despair I often wished to kill myself。〃
〃Finely tragical to…night！〃 cried Emile。
〃Let me pass sentence on my life；〃 Raphael answered。 〃If your
friendship is not strong enough to bear with my elegy； if you cannot
put up with half an hour's tedium for my sake； go to sleep！ But； then；
never ask again for the reason of suicide that hangs over me； that
comes nearer and calls to me； that I bow myself before。 If you are to
judge a man； you must know his secret thoughts； sorrows； and feelings；
to know merely the outward events of a man's life would only serve to
make a chronological tablea fool's notion of history。〃
Emile was so much struck with the bitter tones in which these words
were spoken； that he began to pay close attention to Raphael； whom he
watched with a bewildered expression。
〃Now；〃 continued the speaker； 〃all these things that befell me appear
in a new light。 The sequence of events that I once thought so
unfortunate created the splendid powers of which； later； I became so
proud。 If I may believe you； I possess the power of readily expressing
my thoughts； and I could take a forward place in the great field of
knowledge； and is not this the result of scientific curiosity； of
excessive application； and a love of reading which possessed me from
the age of seven till my entry on life？ The very neglect in which I
was left； and the consequent habits of self…repression and self…
concentration； did not these things teach me how to consider and
reflect？ Nothing in me was squandered in obedience to the exactions of
the world； which humble the proudest soul and reduce it to a mere
husk； and was it not this very fact that refined the emotional part of
my nature till it became the perfected instrument of a loftier purpose
than passionate desires？ I remember watching the women who mistook me
with all the insight of contemned love。
〃I can see now that my natural sincerity must have been displeasing to
them； women； perhaps； even require a little hypocrisy。 And I； who in
the same hour's space am alternately a man and a child； frivolous and
thoughtful； free from bias and brimful of superstition； and oftentimes
myself as much a woman as any of them； how should they do otherwise
than take my simplicity for cynicism； my innocent candor for
impudence？ They found my knowledge tiresome； my feminine languor；
weakness。 I was held to be listless and incapable of love or of steady
purpose； a too active imagination； that curse of poets； was no doubt
the cause。 My silence was idiotic； and as I daresay I alarmed them by
my efforts to please； women one and all have condemned me。 With tears
and mortification； I bowed before the decision of the world； but my
distress was not barren。 I determined to revenge myself on society； I
would dominate the feminine intellect； and so have the feminine soul
at my mercy； all eyes should be fixed upon me； when the servant at the
door announced my name。 I had determined from my childhood that I
would be a great man； I said with Andre Chenier； as I struck my
forehead； 'There is something underneath that！' I felt； I believed；
the thought within me that I must express； the system I must
establish； the knowledge I must interpret。
〃Let me pour out my follies； dear Emile； to…day I am barely twenty…six
years old； certain of dying unrecognized； and I have never been the
lover of the woman I dreamed of possessing。 Have we not all of us；
more or less； believed in the reality of a thing because we wished it？
I would never have a young man for my friend who did not place himself
in dreams upon a pedestal； weave crowns for his head； and have
complaisant mistresses。 I myself would often be a general； nay；
emperor； I have been a Byron； and then a nobody。 After this sport on
these pinnacles of human achievement； I became aware that all the
difficulties and steeps of life were yet to face。 My exuberant self…
esteem came to my aid； I had that intense belief in my destiny； which
perhaps amounts to genius in those who will not permit themselves to
be distracted by contact with the world； as sheep that leave their
wool on the briars of every thicket they pass by。 I meant to cover
myself with glory； and to work in silence for the mistress I hoped to
have one day。 Women for me were resumed into a single type； and this
woman I looked to meet in the first that met my eyes； but in each and
all I saw a queen； and as queens must make the first advances to their
lovers； they must draw near to meto me； so sickly； shy； and poor。
For her； who should take pity on me； my heart held in store such
gratitude over and beyond love； that I had worshiped her her whole
life long。 Later； my observations have taught me bitter truths。
〃In this way； dear Emile； I ran the risk of remaining companionless
for good。 The incomprehensible bent of women's minds appears to lead
them to see nothing but the weak points in a clever man； and the
strong points of a fool。 They feel the liveliest sympathy with the
fool's good qualities； which perpetually flatter their own defects；
while they find the man of talent hardly agreeable enough to
compensate for his shortcomings。 All capacity is a sort of
intermittent fever； and no woman is anxious to share in its
discomforts only； they look to find in their lovers the wherewithal to
gratify their own vanity。 It is themselves that they love in us！ But
the artist； poor and proud； along with his endowment of creative
power； is furnished with an aggressive egotism！ Everything about him
is involved in I know not what whirlpool of his ideas； and even his
mistress must gyrate along with them。 How is a woman； spoilt with
praise； to believe in the love of a man like that？ Will she go to seek
him out？ That sort of lover has not the leisure to sit beside a sofa
and give himself up to the sentimental simperings that women are so
fond of； and on which the false and unfeeling pride themselves。 He
cannot spare the time from his work； and how can he afford to humble
himself and go a…masquerading！ I was ready to give my life once and
for all； but I could not degrade it in detail。 Besides； there is
something indescribably paltry in a stockbroker's tactics； who runs on
errands for some insipid affected woman； all this disgusts an artist。
Love in the abstrac