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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 38
thought this more than human, but later on it confirmed
the opinion I had formed of the Baroness’s naturally
frigid temperament. We parted very early, and I re-
turned to my room, my brain on fire with the indiscreet
disclosures Avhich I had been made to listen to.
This woman, although apparently in love with her hus-
band, after a union of three years not only permitted
him every freedom, but did so without claiming the same
right for herself. It was strange, unnatural, like love
without jealousy, light without shade. No ! it was im-
possible ; there must be another cause. He had told me
the Baroness was naturally cold. That, too, seemed
strange. Or was she really an embodiment of the virgin
mother, such as I had already dimly divined? And was
not chastity, purity of the soul, so closely linked to
refinement of manners, a characteristic, an attribute of a
superior race? I had not been deceived, then, in my
youthful meditations when a young girl roused my admira-
tion without in the least exciting my senses. Beautiful
childish dreams ! Charming ignorance of woman, that
problem unspeakably more complex than a bachelor ever
dreams of !
At last the Baroness returned, radiant with health ;
the memories awakened by meeting again the friends of
her girlhood seemed to have rejuvenated her.
"Here is the dove with the olive branch," she said,
handing me a letter from my so-called sweetheart.
With anything but genuine enjoyment I waded through
the presumptuous twaddle, the effusions of a heartless
blue-stocking, anxious to win independence by marriage
—
any marriage, and while I was reading I made up my mind
to put an end to the matter.
"Do you know for certain," I asked the Baroness,
"whether the lady is engaged to the singer or not? "
" Yes and no."
D
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