“But why, madame? Why is it so?”
“Ah, mon Dieu, you are asking me riddles of nature. It is so because it is so. Because men are like that.”
“Because men are beasts, you mean—which is what I began by asking you.”
“You are incorrigibly stupid, Aline.”
“You mean that I do not see things as you do, madame. I am not over-expectant as you appear to think; yet surely I have the right to expect that whilst M. de La Tour d’Azyr is wooing me, he shall not be wooing at the same time a drab of the theatre. I feel that in this there is a subtle association of myself with that unspeakable creature which soils and insults me. The Marquis is a dullard whose wooing takes the form at best of stilted compliments, stupid and unoriginal. They gain nothing when they fall from lips still warm from the contamination of that woman’s kisses.”
So utterly scandalized was madame that for a moment she remained speechless. Then—
“Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed. “I should never have suspected you of so indelicate an imagination.”
“I cannot help it, madame. Each time his lips touch my fingers I find myself thinking of the last object that they touched. I at once retire to wash my hands. Next time, madame, unless you are good enough to convey my message to him, I shall call for water and wash them in his presence.”
“But what am I to tell him? How... in what words can I convey such a message?” Madame was aghast.
“Be frank with him, madame. It is easiest in the end. Tell him that however impure may have been his life in the past, however impure he intend that it shall be in the future, he must at least study purity whilst approaching with a view to marriage a virgin who is herself pure and without stain.”