." This term of endearment, which she addresses to me for

Sedy Ardinger disclosure at celieplant.nl
Sat Mar 27 14:01:52 UTC 2010

Uality of their love. She is judge and combatant in one. She lets
herself be carried along so that she may have fuller knowledge; and it
is not
without pain,

it is not without love that, at the eleventh hour, she will, if need
be, refuse herself." Rose here interrupted
me: "If she loves, if she suffers, why does she refuse herself?"
"There are a thousand degrees in love; and a woman of feeling always
suffers when she inflicts suffering." I examined my mind for a moment
and, as though it were uttering its thoughts backwards, I continued,
slowly: "It is sometimes our duty to inflict suffering. The man's
instinct is always more or less blinded by desire; he always, either
craftily or brutally, proposes. It is for us to dispose. We are
Peace or discord springs from our will. He is not
as well fitted to choose as we are, because he has not the same
reasons for wishing to see comradeship follow upon passion, to see
rapture give way to security. If we are one day to be the mother of
the child, are we not first of all the mother of love? Are we not at
the same time the cradle and the tabernacle of that god?
In any happy couple, is love not cast in the woman's

image much more

than in the man's? The man has a thousand things that attract and
him elsewhere; his
temperament is more prodigal and less considerate than ours. It is in
the woman that

love dwells; her sensitive nature leads her to a higher knowledge in
the art of loving; and the infinite details of her tenderness can make
her seem perfect in her lover's eyes when they do not render her
exclusive...." Struck by this last word, Rose exclaimed:

"What! According to you, love should not be

exclusive!" And, lowering her voice, she asked, "Are you not
faithful?" "We do not even think
of being faithful as long as we love. We should blush to offer love
the cold homage of fidelity: it is a word devoid of meaning in the
presence of

a genuine love. In love fidelity
is like a chain disappearing under the flowers. If it is one day seen,
that means that the flowers are faded." I kneel beside her and, taking
her in my arms, kiss her fondly. Through the exquisite silence of the
day, the church-bell rings out the _Angelus_ i
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