'No; all women are not Cressids. The falsehood is not always on the woman's side. Imogen was true, but now was she rewarded? Her lord believed her to be the paramour of the first he who came near her in his absence. Desdemona was true and was smothered. Ophelia was true and went mad. There is no happiness in love, except at the end of an English novel. But in wealth, money, houses, lands, goods and chattels, in the good things of this world, yes, in them there is something tangible, something that can be retained and enjoyed.'
'Oh, no,' said Mr Slope, feeling himself bound to enter some protest against so very unorthodox a doctrine, 'this world's wealth will make no one happy.'
'And what will make you happy—you—you?' said she, raising herself up, and speaking to him with energy across the table. 'From what source do you look for happiness? Do not say that you look for none? I shall not believe you. It is a search in which every human being spends an existence.'
'And the search is always in vain,' said Mr Slope. 'We look for happiness on earth, while we ought to be content to hope for it in heaven.'
'Pshaw! you preach a doctrine which you know you don't believe. It is the way with you all. If you know that there is no earthly happiness, why do you long to be a bishop or a dean? Why do you want lands and income?'
'I have the natural ambition of a man,' said he.
'Of course you have, and the natural passions; and therefore I say that you don't believe the doctrine you preach. St Paul was an enthusiast. He believed so that his ambition and passions did not war against his creed. So does the Eastern fanatic who passes half his life erect upon a pillar. As for me, I will believe in no belief that does not make itself manifest by outward signs. I will think no preaching sincere that is not recommended by the practice of the preacher.'
Mr Slope was startled and horrified, but he felt that he could not answer. How could he stand up and preach the lessons of his Master, being there as he was, on the devil's business? He was a true believer, otherwise this would have been nothing to him. He had audacity for most things, but he had not audacity to make a plaything of the Lord's word. All this the signora understood, and felt much interest as she saw her cockchafer whirl round upon her pin.
'Your wit delights in such arguments,' said he, 'but your heart and your reason do not quite go along with them.'
'My heart!' said she; 'you quite mistake the principles of my composition if you imagine that there is such a thing about me.' After all, there was very little that was false in anything the signora said. If Mr Slope allowed himself to be deceived it was his own fault. Nothing could have been more open than her declarations about herself.