“‘I am not quite sure,’ she said, ‘let me see again.’
“Now that was clearly her fault, and left me no excuse for refusing her absolute satisfaction.
“‘Make haste, Oscar,’ she whispered, ‘how cold you are.’”
The lucky man paused, while the chorus breathlessly broke in with:
“Did you make haste?”
“Gentlemen, man is a contemptible creature in his treatment of woman; she is infinitely his superior in every good quality, and he absolutely takes advantage of his baser capacities to betray her superior nature. He matches his cunning against her truthfulness, his selfishness against her disinterestedness, his deceitfulness against her affection. Woman’s nobleness of heart is a provision of nature to prevent the degeneration of our species; were women as bad as men, our children would be brutes or idiots. Traits of mind and heart are transmitted—”
Chorus—“Never mind all that, did you make haste?”
“Gentlemen, with those feelings, I could not long remain in that room; it was time to make haste; and mumbling some excuse, I escaped before a noise, that seemed to be ascending the stairs, approached. My friend wondered at the time I had been away, abused me for allowing the light to go out, but was easily convinced that the time had been lengthened by his dreams. Virtue is its own reward, and, gentlemen, I never shall regret that night.”
Chorus—“But you have not said a word of the duck-shooting.”
“Well, to tell the truth, I heard next day that Oscar was inquiring for me, and concluded that the shooting would be better elsewhere.”