"There are very few women whom it would be possible to contemplate in calmness spending one's life with, because one's own needs change, and the woman's also. The tie is a galling bond unless it can be looked at with common sense by both—but I think men are quite as illogical as women over it, and of such an incredible vanity! It is because we have mixed so much sentiment into such a simple nature-act that all the bothers arise, and men are unjust over every thing to do with women. All men think, for instance, that a woman must not deceive her lover and, at the same time that she is appearing to be his faithful mistress, take another for her pleasure and diversion in secret. A man would look upon this and rightly as a dishonourable betrayal because it would wound his vanity and lower his personal prestige. But the illogical part is that he would not hesitate to do the same thing himself, and would never see the matter in the light of a betrayal, because the Creator has happily equipped him with a rhinoceros hide which enables him never to feel stings of self-contempt when viewing his own actions towards the other sex."
Denzil laughed aloud.
"You are hard on us, Stépan, but I dare say you are right."
"It is just custom and convention which make us think ourselves such gods. Had woman had the same chance always, who knows what she might not have become by now! Everything is ticketed, it is called by a name and put down under such and such a heading—women are 'weak' and 'illogical' and 'unreliable' and men are 'brave' and 'sound' and 'to be trusted'—tosh! in quantities of cases—and if so, why so? Women are wonderful beings in many ways—of a courage! The way they bear things so gladly for men—think of their suffering when they have children. You don't know about it probably, men take all this as a matter of course—but I saw my sister die—after hours of it—"
Denzil moved his arm rather suddenly and upset the glass of lemon squash on a little table near.
Verisschenzko observed this, but went on without a break:
"It is agony for them under the best conditions, and sometimes they become divine over it. Amaryllis will be divine—I hope John will take care of her—"
A look of concern came into Denzil's face, and Verisschenzko watched him. Could any one be more attractive as a splendid mate for Amaryllis, he thought. He crushed down all feeling of human jealousy. His intuition would probably reveal all the mystery to him presently, and meanwhile if he could forward any scheme which would be for the good of Amaryllis and the security of the family, he would do so.
"I must leave you now, old man," he said, looking at his watch. "I have a rendezvous with Harietta. I shall have to play the part of an ardent lover and cannot yet wring her neck."
When Denzil was alone, he stood gazing into the fire.