gled him out, what she had
meant when she asked him to come to see her, and thought supplied an
inexhaustible commentary. Again it seemed to him that he had discovered
the motives of her curiosity, and he grew intoxicated with hope or
frigidly sober with each new construction put upon that piece of
commonplace civility. Sometimes it meant everything, sometimes nothing.
He made up his mind at last that he would not yield to this inclination,
and--went to call on Mme. d'Aiglemont.

There are thoughts which determine our conduct, while we do not so much
as suspect their existence. If at first sight this assertion appears to
be less a truth than a paradox, let any candid inquirer look into his
own life and he shall find abundant confirmation therein. Charles went
to Mme. d'Aiglemont, and so obeyed one of these latent, pre-existent
germs of thought, of which our experience and our intellectual gains and
achievements are but later and tangible developments.

For a young man a woman of thirty has irresistible attractions. There
is nothing more natural, nothing better established, no human tie of
stouter tissue than the heart-deep attachment between such a woman as
the Marquise d'Aiglemont and such a man as Charles de Vandenesse. You
can see examples of it every day in the world. A girl, as a matter
of fact, has too many young illusions, she is too inexperienced, the
instinct of sex counts for too much in her love for a young man to feel
flattered by it. A woman of thirty knows all that is involved in
the self-surrender to be made. Among the impulses of the first, put
curiosity and other motives than love; the second acts with integrity of
sentiment. The first yields; the second makes deliberate choice. Is
not that choice in itself an immense flattery? A woman armed with
experience, forewarned by knowledge, almost always dearly bought, seems
to give more than herself; while the inexperienced and credulous girl,
unable to draw comparisons for lack of knowledge, can appreciate
nothing at its just worth. She accepts love and ponders it. A woman is a
counselor and a guide at an age when we love to be guided and obedience
is delight; while a girl would fain learn all things, meeting us with a
girl's _naivete_ instead of a woman's tenderness. She affords a single
triumph; with a woman there is resistance upon resistance to overcome;
she has but joy and tears, a woman has rapture and remorse.

A girl cannot play the part of a mistre