"Yes, I think I will be happy with her."
Entragues controlled his emotions and asked in a calm voice:
"Are you going to marry her?"
"Yes, if she consents. That is my intention and my dearest wish. She says neither no nor yes. I don't know what to do about it."
"You don't displease her?"
"You think not?"
"I mean," Entragues answered, "that you please her. But she herself does not know it and you must teach her to read her own heart. Recall the words of Madame Récamier to Benjamin Constant: 'Dare, my friend, dare!' You perhaps don't know the French women, but trust to my experience. A little force doesn't displease them. I don't say violence, I say force. The iron hand gloved in velvet can play a decisive rôle in love; nothing more enlightens a woman about her own sentiments than a kiss which goes further than kisses. Then she knows what she wishes and nine times out of ten she will love, through gratitude, the bold man who has drawn her from indecision. Note this well: she runs after her modesty as one runs after one's gold."
Moscowitch, very interested, drew nearer to Entragues and, as if to appropriate him to himself, passed his arm under Entragues', saying:
"May I?"
"The great liberty? Ah! you know your authors! I believe we are going to become friends, for I felt a great sympathy towards you from the very first.... It is just like in the trenches, before Sebastopol.... See, my dear Moscowitch, I who usually am good for nothing, who am endowed with only a modest activity, I wish, in the name of this common friend, who will be more than a friend for you, to help your noble ambitions, like a brother. You must attain everything: love and glory must crown your genius."