We all know by experience that Eves love well-made Adams. I do not mean the “mashers” with girls’ faces, but men built like the old statues, with supple limbs and broad chests. From this point of view, the gymnast who acquires strength without losing his agility, seems an ideal lover. I therefore asked them to tell me in friendly sincerity if they found many scented notes in their dressing-room every evening.
“I am sure,” replied Alphonse, the elder of the two friends, the orator of the pair, “that we receive quite as many love-letters, as the tenors do. From this you may conclude, if you like, that there is exactly the same number of practical women as of sentimental ones, unless the same individuals write to the [p266] tenors and the gymnasts—and this seems very probable to me.”
“And in what terms do you answer these passionate advances, my dear Alphonse?” [p267]
“We throw the letters into the fire without reading them,” replied the acrobat.
“You are afraid of being tempted?”
“Of course all excess is forbidden us. No one must mount into the friezes without a perfectly clear head. It is too easy to miss a spring and break one’s neck, even by falling into the net—which is more useful for reassuring the audience and the police than for anything else. But this is not our only reason for avoiding women. Ask Adolphe’s opinion on the point.” [p268]
“We do not like women because they are badly made,” replied his comrade, with a grimace of disgust.
I could not help smiling.