"You think that I am preaching to you," she answered. "I have not the right to do that, and if I had, I would certainly not use it. But I have seen something of the world. Women rarely love a man who is bitter against any one but himself. If he says cruel things of other women, the one to whom he says them believes that he will say much worse of her to the next he meets; if he abuses the men she knows, she likes it even less—it is an attack on her judgment, on her taste and perhaps upon a half-developed sympathy for the man attacked. One should never be witty at another person's expense, except with one's own sex." She laughed a little.
"What a terrible conclusion!"
"Is it? It is the true one."
"Then the way to win a woman's love is to praise her acquaintances? That is original."
"I never said that."
"No? I misunderstood. What is the best way?"
"Oh—it is very simple," laughed Maria Consuelo.
"Tell her you love her, and tell her so again and again—you will certainly please her in the end."
"Madame—" Orsino stopped, and folded his hands with an air of devout supplication.
"What?"