necessity of its being.

On the contrary, a "favorite" leans all to one side, and that side is
herself. She is overbearing and exacting in the most trivial matters
of outward homage. She will be served on the bended knee, and her
service is a hard and ungrateful one. And this is the truth about
such homage: men may be compelled to kneel to a woman's whims for a
short time, but when they do find courage to rise to their feet they
go away forever.

So that, after all, the estimate of women for those of their own sex
who are favorites of a great number of men is a very just one. It is
neither unfair nor untrue in its essentials, for in this world we can
only judge actions by their consequences; and the consequences of a
long career of general admiration do not justify honorable mention of
the belle of many seasons. She can hardly escape the results of her
social experience. She must of necessity become false and artificial.
She cannot avoid a morbid jealousy of her own rights, and a painful
jealousy of the successes of those who have passed her in the
matrimonial career.

Nor can she, as these qualities strengthen, by any means conceal their
presence. Every attribute of our nature has its distinctive
atmosphere; it is subtle and invisible as the perfume of a plant, but
it makes itself distinctly present,--even when we are careful to
permit no translation of the feeling into action. Men are not
analyzers or inquirers into character, as a general rule, but the
bright ways and witty conversation of their favorite does not deceive
them. Sooner or later they are sensitive to the restlessness,
disappointment, envy, and hatred, which couches beneath the smiles and
sparkle. They may put the knowledge away at the time, but when they
are alone they will eventually admit and understand it all.

And the saddest part of this situation is that they are not at all
astonished at what their hearts reveal to them. They know that they
have expected nothing better, nothing more permanently valuable. They
tell themselves frankly that in this woman's society they never looked
for imperishable virtues; she was only a pretty _passe-temps_--a woman
suitable for life's laughter, but not for its noblest duties and
discipline.

For when good men want to marry, they seek a woman for what _she is_,
not for what she looks. They want a gentlewoman of blameless honor,
who will love her husband, and neither be reluctant to have children
nor to bring