"That would be nice."
"Is it a bargain, then?"
"Yes."
"I am not to be 'Your Grace,' and you are not to remind me every two minutes that you are Lady Garribardine's secretary."
"Very well."
"If you remember, the last words we had together then were finished by a question from you to me, as to whether there was not something else in love beyond that passionate side which you intimated that you already knew."
"Yes, I remember."
"I think there is a great deal more, but it would not be complete alone. Love to be lasting must be a mixture of both passion and idealism, but where can one find such a combination in these days? The emotion which most people call love is composed of self-interest, and a little transitory exaltation of the senses. But such old-fashioned and divine qualities as devotion and tenderness and self-sacrifice are almost unknown."
Katherine did not speak; the "Letters of Abelard and Héloise" were very fresh in her memory; one passage in Héloise's first letter had struck her forcibly:
If there is anything that may properly be called happiness here below, I am persuaded it is in the union of two persons who love each other with perfect liberty, who are united by a secret inclination and satisfied with each other's merits. Their hearts are full of love and leave no vacancy for any other passion; they enjoy perpetual tranquillity, because they enjoy content.