Yet I cannot help thinking that even this is a triumph of diplomacy. My spirits rise; my ridiculous humors have been charmed quite away. As for woman, she seems not even worth cynical comment in my journal. “Give me man!” I say to myself.
Chapter XVIII
“A drop of water on a petal in the sunshine; that same drop down thy neck in a cavern. Both are woman; thy mood and the occasion make the sole difference.”
—Cervanto Y'Alvez.