e De Wardes, and
if I had the pliancy of character and strength of will of M. d'Artagnan,
I should laugh, with my lips at least; I should convince other women
that this perfidious girl, honored by the affection I have wasted on
her, leaves me only one regret, that of having been abused and deceived
by her seemingly modest and irreproachable conduct; a few might perhaps
fawn on the king by jesting at my expense; I should put myself on
the track of some of those buffoons; I should chastise a few of them,
perhaps; the men would fear me, and by the time I had laid three dying
or dead at my feet, I should be adored by the women. Yes, yes, that,
indeed, would be the proper course to adopt, and the Comte de la Fere
himself would not object to it. Has not he also been tried, in his
earlier days, in the same manner as I have just been tried myself? Did
he not replace affection by intoxication? He has often told me so. Why
should I not replace love by pleasure? He must have suffered as much as
I suffer, even more--if that is possible. The history of one man is the
history of all, a dragging trial, more or less prolonged, more or less
bitter--sorrowful. The note of human nature is nothing but one sustained
cry. But what are the sufferings of others compared to those from which
I am now suffering? Does the open wound in another's breast soften the
anguish of the gaping ulcer in our own? Does the blood which is welling
from another man's side stanch that which is pouring from our own? Does
the general grief of our fellow-creatures lessen our own private and
particular woe? No, no, each suffers on his own account, each struggles
with his own grief, each sheds his own tears. And besides," he went on,
"what has my life been up to the present moment? A cold, barren, sterile
arena, in which I have always fought for others, never for myself.
Sometimes for a king, sometimes for a woman. The king has betrayed, the
woman disdained me. Miserable, unlucky wretch that I am! Women! Can I
not make all expiate the crime of one of their sex? What does that
need? To have a heart no longer, or to forget that I ever had one; to
be strong, even against weakness itself; to lean always, even when
one feels that the support is giving way. What is needed to attain, or
succeed in all that? To be young, handsome, strong, valiant, rich. I
am, or shall be, all that. But honor?" he still continued, "and what is
honor after all? A theory which every man understand