Читать книгу Stories of Romance онлайн

24 страница из 37

Sitting, as he does, next to the young girl, and next but one to the calm lady who has her in charge, he cannot help seeing their relations to each other.

That is an admirable woman, Sir,——he said to me one day, as we sat alone at the table after breakfast,——an admirable woman, Sir,——and I hate her.

Of course, I begged an explanation.

An admirable woman, Sir, because she does good things, and even kind things,——takes care of this——this——young lady——we have here, talks like a sensible person, and always looks as if she was doing her duty with all her might. I hate her because her voice sounds as if it never trembled, and her eyes look as if she never knew what it was to cry. Besides, she looks at me, Sir, stares at me, as if she wanted to get an image of me for some gallery in her brain,——and we don’t love to be looked at in this way, we that have——I hate her,——I hate her,——her eyes kill me,——it is like being stabbed with icicles to be looked at so,——the sooner she goes home the better. I don’t want a woman to weigh me in a balance; there are men enough for that sort of work. The judicial character isn’t captivating in females, Sir. A woman fascinates a man quite as often by what she overlooks as by what she sees. Love prefers twilight to daylight; and a man doesn’t think much of, nor care much for, a woman outside of his household, unless he can couple the idea of love, past, present, or future, with her. I don’t believe the Devil would give half as much for the services of a sinner as he would for those of one of these folks that are always doing virtuous acts in a way to make them unpleasing.——That young girl wants a tender nature to cherish her and give her a chance to put out her leaves,——sunshine, and not east winds.