"The man should always rule," says Paul, in his masterful way; "and you may say what you like, Nell, but you would love to be ruled, you would like to be kept in order."
"No, no," I say gravely; "that Frenchman's idea was a much better one. He went on broader grounds than you do. Yours is an English notion. He recognised the fact that however pretty and amusing it may be to play at love, it cannot be made the business of a life-time; and that after a while a man grows tired of treating his mistress or wife like a goddess or a baby: he wants more solid stuff to live on, and the one everlasting dish palls then. If she will look the knowledge in the face that such is the case, and putting sentiment on one side enter heartily into his ambitions and aims, and hopes and amusements, she becomes not only the beloved woman, but the bright pleasant comrade, who is bound to him by fifty ties of mutual interest and support; they are equals, and he considers her as capable of giving advice as taking it———"
I stop short in my serious disquisition on love and matrimony as I catch Paul's amused smile.
"Wait until you fall in love," he says; "I shall see it some day, and I wonder where all your philosophy will be then?"
"Where it is now," I answer stoutly, through my blushes; "nothing will ever alter my opinion on that point. I think it is nothing but bad management that makes so many married people who begin with so much love end up with so little. Mr. Vasher?"
"Yes."
"Do you think Silvia would ever have been bon camarade?"
"No; she would keep a man to her side by sheer fascination, but she could never———"
"What do you call fascination?" I ask, as he pauses.
"I suppose the real essence of it lies in the power a woman possesses of making herself so delightful, that every hour spent away from her is an age."
