Yes, the jarring sounds and crude colours which had so shocked and frightened her were but delusions caused by the lying ‘animal-spirits’ of man. The true contrast was not between the actual world and her own world of dreams, not between the design cut by God’s finger upon cubes of wood and her own frail desires, but between the still whiteness of reality and the crude and garish pattern of cross purposes thrown athwart it by the contrary wills of men.
Well, not only was Jansenism distasteful, but it was also untrue, and here was a grave doctor’s confirmation of the magical powers of her adamant of desire.
The pattern of cross-purposes was but a delusion, and therefore not to be feared. The only reality being a soft maniable Body, why should she not turn potter instead of engraver and by the plastic force of her own will give the wax what form she chose?
Through her dancing she would exercise her will and dance into the wax the fragrance of flowers, the honey of love, the Attic shape she longed for.
Madeleine is following Théodamas (Conrart) into Sappho’s reception-room. A dispute is raging as to whether Descartes was justified in regarding Love as soulageant pour l’estomac. They turn to Madeleine and ask for her opinion: she smiles and says,—
‘’Twould provide the Faculty with an interesting thèse du Cardinal, but ’tis a problem that I, at least, am not fitted to tackle, in that I have never tasted the gastric lenitive in question.’
‘If the question can be discussed by none but those experienced in love,’ cries Sappho, ‘then are we all reduced to silence, for which of us will own to such a disgraceful experience?’
The company laughs. ‘But at least,’ cries Théodamas, ‘we can all of us in this room confess to a wide experience in the discreet passion of Esteem, although the spiritual atoms of which it is formed are too subtle, its motions too delicate to produce any effect on so gross an organ as the one in question.’
‘Do you consider that the heart is the seat of esteem, or is esteem too refined to associate with the Passion considered as the chief denizen of that organ from time immemorial?’ asks Doralise.