ST. I assure you, General, that your mythological compliment is totally lost upon me: I should prefer that you judge me worthy to talk reason with you.
BON. The right of your sex is to make us lose our reason: do not despise so excellent a privilege.
ST. General, I beg of you not to play with me as with a doll: I desire to be treated as a man.
BON. Then you would like to have me put on petticoats.
ST.—TO A GENTLEMAN INTERRUPTING HER.—Sir, be good enough to understand that I desire no assistance, though certainly my adversary is sufficiently powerful to render assistance necessary.
BON. Madame, it was to my aid that he was coming; my danger appalls him, and he was seeking to relieve me.
ST. In any case, I owe him small thanks for his tardy aid, since you confess that my victory seemed certain. He is a true friend, however; he stands by those he likes, even in their absence, when, usually, friendship slumbers.
BON. In that, friendship imitates its cousin—love.
ST.—NERVING HERSELF FOR AN EFFORT.—By what means, General, can an ordinary woman, without literary reputation, without superior genius, be sustained in the affection of a man she loves when separated from him by distance or a period of years? Memory, reduced to recalling her charms only, becomes gradually dim, and at last forgets, especially when the lover is a great man. But when the latter has had the good fortune to meet with a strong-minded woman, one worthy of sharing his laurels, and herself enjoying a high reputation, then the distance of time and space disappears, for it is the renown of both which serves as messenger between them, and it is through the hundred mouths of fame that each receives intelligence of the other.
BON. Madame, in what chapter of the work you are about to publish shall we read this brilliant passage?