—'I don't mind by what name they call me. Don't you remember: "That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet."'
—'And yet you must not monopolise the time; I must now have my turn of freedom of speech.'
The lady thus claiming her turn of speech was a lively, vigorous, energetic young lady, capable of talking and writing in several languages, confident of herself and of her sex, as confident as though she were carrying on her shoulders the responsibility of half mankind, that is, the whole of womankind. She takes, of course, great interest in women's education and the promotion of women's rights in all matters. She began by saying, with her face turned towards me:
—'In the letter you have just read—'
—'I did not read it,' I interposed; 'it was that lady.'
—'Well, then,' she said, 'in the letter you have brought in your pocket and have made one of the ladies read to us. In that letter mention is made of Japanese ladies—'
—'Oh, no more of the ladies,' I interrupted; 'I have spoken so much of them, that if I repeat too often, I shall weary my readers of A Summer Dream.'
—'What!' she said, 'I do not mind if you read or copy the Midsummer Night's Dream, or the Winters Tale, but I must have my turn of speech. In that letter, the writer speaks of the Japanese killing their mothers, wives, and sisters: by that the writer, no doubt, means the affliction which is put upon them by the death of so many men on the battlefields. But in my opinion, it is not only in Japan that women are killed, but in all countries, in England, in France, in America and everywhere else! Man everywhere despises women's education and deprives women of their lives.'
—'Of course, you take great interest in women's education,' I interposed.
—'Not only,' she continued, 'they despise women's education, but they employ every machination to hinder women from developing brain power, which is their only life.'