Egeria looked at him with reproach. “Do you really mean it?”—earnestly.
“Of course I do”—surprised at her tone.
“I dare say any man to whom I put the question would answer in the same way.” Her eyebrows expressed resignation. “Stay, I will phrase it differently; why do you think you love a particular woman?”
The senator could not resist the opportunity. “Because she is you!”—gallantly.
“Stop trifling.” Egeria was becoming petulant. “This is a serious matter. Now, answer properly; why do you think you love a particular woman?”
“Because”—emphatically—“I imagine her, rightly or wrongly, to be the possessor of those qualities I have enumerated.”
Egeria sighed. “And you still stick to it?”
“Of course I do,” he responded, with assurance.
She shook her head. “Nonsense! Men are less exacting than you think—and more. They ask neither beauty nor grace nor unselfishness of woman; they demand but one thing—you must charm me. For me you must possess that indefinable quality we call magnetism. Emerson puts it all in a nutshell, voices the essentially masculine point of view:”
I hold it of little matter
Whether your jewel be of pure water—
A rose diamond, or a white—
But whether it dazzle me with light.