"Aye, they say the same; but with men it is another sentiment, I think, though love is what we call it."
"Why do men love, Carus?"
"Why?" I laughed. "Men love—men love because they find it pleasant, I suppose—for variety, for family reasons."
"For nothing else?"
"For a balm to that mad passion driving them."
"And—nothing nobler?"
"There is a noble love, part chivalry, part desire, inspired by mind and body in sweetest unison."
"A mind that seeks its fellow?" she asked softly.
"No, a mind that seeks its complement, as the body seeks. This union, I think, is really love. But I speak with no experience, Elsin. This only I know, that you are too young, too innocent to comprehend, and that the sentiment awakened in you by what you think is love, is not love. Child, forgive me what I say, but it rings false as the vows of that young man who importunes you."
"Is it worthy of you, Carus, to stab him so behind his back?"