ers
that from afar and through the iron grating they may enjoy its fragrance
and its beauty. Finally let me repeat to thee some verses that come to my
mind; I heard them in a modern comedy, and it seems to me they bear upon
the point we are discussing. A prudent old man was giving advice to
another, the father of a young girl, to lock her up, watch over her and
keep her in seclusion, and among other arguments he used these:
Woman is a thing of glass;
But her brittleness 'tis best
Not too curiously to test:
Who knows what may come to pass?
Breaking is an easy matter,
And it's folly to expose
What you cannot mend to blows;
What you can't make whole to shatter.
This, then, all may hold as true,
And the reason's plain to see;
For if Danaes there be,
There are golden showers too.
"All that I have said to thee so far, Anselmo, has had reference to what
concerns thee; now it is right that I should say something of what
regards myself; and if I be prolix, pardon me, for the labyrinth into
which thou hast entered and from which thou wouldst have me extricate
thee makes it necessary.
"Thou dost reckon me thy friend, and thou wouldst rob me of honour, a
thing wholly inconsistent with friendship; and not only dost thou aim at
this, but thou wouldst have me rob thee of it also. That thou wouldst rob
me of it is clear, for when Camilla sees that I pay court to her as thou
requirest, she will certainly regard me as a man without honour or right
feeling, since I attempt and do a thing so much opposed to what I owe to
my own position and thy friendship. That thou wouldst have me rob thee of
it is beyond a doubt, for Camilla, seeing that I press my suit upon her,
will suppose that I have perceived in her something light that has
encouraged me to make known to her my base desire; and if she holds
herself dishonoured, her dishonour touches thee as belonging to her; and
hence arises what so commonly takes place, that the husband of the
adulterous woman, though he may not be aware of or have given any cause
for his wife's failure in her duty, or (being careless or negligent) have
had it in his power to prevent his dishonour, nevertheless is stigmatised
by a vile and reproachful name, and in a manner regarded with eyes of
contempt instead of pity by all who know of his wife's guilt, though they
see that he is unfortunate not by his own fault, but by the lust of a
vicious consort. But I will tell thee why with good reason dishon
|