“There was once a woman who was regarded by all the men of her acquaintance as ugly, stupid and tiresome, and by all the women who knew her as beautiful, brilliant, fascinating and altogether delightful. Their different points of view led to so much discussion and bickering that they finally decided to submit the matter to a referee, a wise old fellow, who, after a very thorough acquaintance with the world and its works, had elected to spend the remainder of his days in seclusion.
“The philosopher kindly consented to decide the matter, and consequently gave the lady in question due study. Ultimately he announced his decision.
“‘Both sides are right,’ he said. ‘She is the ugliest, stupidest, most aggressive creature on earth; but masculine indifference and dislike have thrown such a halo about her that all women see her as beautiful and charming.’”
During the recital of this tale, a flush had risen on Egeria’s cheek, and she tapped her foot with growing impatience upon the floor. Barely had he finished when she cried, explosively:
“I hate men! Your fable proves nothing but the ineffable conceit of your sex!”
The senator pursued his advantage. “I saw a similar remark in a book I was reading the other day”—pleasantly. “‘I hate men,’ said one woman to another; ‘I wish they were all at the bottom of the sea.’
“‘Then,’ replied the woman to whom she spoke, ‘we would all be purchasing diving bells.’
“But”—hastily, as Egeria half rose—“you really don’t consider women judges of what constitutes feminine beauty?”
“The only judges. We are not dazzled, hypnotized, by a mere matter of exquisite coloring, the fugitive glance of too expressive eyes. We are able to bring a calm, unbiased scrutiny to bear upon it, to fully analyze it. We do not confuse beauty with charm.”
“Are the two, then, distinct?” he pondered.