“It’s different with women! As a general rule, men are too fickle to be exacting in the choice of their mistresses, and for that reason such liaisons are not at all dangerous. What does it matter that you are in love with a coquette, with a woman whose reputation is more than shady, with an actress who will make a fool of you? That love will soon be replaced by another, which, in its turn, will be as quickly forgotten! A man’s reputation has nothing to fear from all that; on the contrary, the more love-affairs you have, the more flattered the ladies will be to win your love; that fact says more for their self-esteem than for their hearts.”
“What do you say? to attract the women, one must deceive them?” cried Chérubin, gazing at Monfréville with an incredulous expression. “Do you mean that it is all the same to them whether we forget them and abandon them?”
Monfréville turned pale, his brow darkened, and he kept his eyes on the floor for a long while; not for some moments did he reply:
“There are women who never forgive inconstancy, but they are not ordinarily the ones who love you the best; for true love makes one indulgent. It forgives, provided that you return in all sincerity. I tell you, Chérubin, that the shrewdest man knows nothing about a woman’s heart. There has been much discussion of the subject, and no two persons ever agreed. Tertullian declares that the devil is not so spiteful as woman, and Confucius says that a woman’s soul is the masterwork of creation. Cato maintains that wisdom and virtue are incompatible with the female mind, and Tibullus that woman’s love brings us back to virtue. How are we to form an opinion about it?—But I believe that at this moment I am too much like your tutor, who overwhelms you with his learning. I conclude, my young friend, by informing you that the best way to be happy is to form no attachment. Love all women! Your life will glide along amid pleasures and folly. But if you love only one, you must expect much sorrow in exchange for a little happiness.”
“Love all women, you say! I ask nothing better! I fall in love with all I see—when they are pretty.”
“But I believe that you have not yet formed any liaison? I have not heard that you have any mistress!”
“No—you see—it seems to me that I shall never dare to tell a woman that I love her. A man must be very bold to say that, do you know?”
“Ha! ha! this is the result of a sojourn of sixteen years with your nurse. But you must cast off this timidity, which will be much more injurious than advantageous to you, especially with the fair sex. You are more than eighteen years old—you must make a start, show yourself in society. You must not serve your apprenticeship in love with grisettes or supernumeraries from the theatre. You will find something better than that. In the fashionable society to which I propose to introduce you, a thousand women will contend for your favor, and they will do you credit, at all events. Moreover, it is high time that you should know something besides the theatres, cafés and restaurants of Paris; the salons are where a man gets his training, and I will take you to those where refined manners are the rule. With your name you will be welcomed everywhere. This is the season for receptions; Madame Célival has resumed her assemblies, which are very brilliant affairs; the best people in Paris go there. I will introduce you to her house.”
Chérubin trembled at the idea of going into society; he was afraid of being awkward and clumsy, and of being unable to talk. But Monfréville encouraged him, promised to be his guide and to stay with him, and the young man consented to allow himself to be taken to Madame Célival’s reception.
The day arrived too quickly for Chérubin, who, having never attended any such function, was greatly excited at the mere thought of finding himself in the midst of a large company, exposed to everybody’s glances and remarks.