Then his native manliness came to his aid, helped by sudden hot resentment against the girl who had used him so mercilessly in her desire for revenge.
He vowed that he would tear her from his heart, that no weak woman, slight and frail, with no weapon but beauty, should spoil the bright promise of his life with vain regrets gnawing at his heart like canker in a rose.
“Am I mad that I should cherish
That which leaves but bitter fruit?
I will pluck it from my bosom,
Though my heart be at the root!
“Weakness to be wroth with weakness!
Woman’s pleasure, woman’s pain—
Nature made them blinder motions,
Bounded in a shallower brain.