Minora took that down word for word,--much good may it do her.

"Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused
he will die, if his assurances merely elicit a recommendation
to diet himself, and take plenty of outdoor exercise?
Women are responsible for such lies, because they believe them.
Their amazing vanity makes them swallow flattery so gross
that it is an insult, and men will always be ready to tell
the precise number of lies that a woman is ready to listen to.
Who indulges more recklessly in glowing exaggerations than
the lover who hopes, and has not yet obtained2 He will,
like the nightingale, sing with unceasing modulations,
display all his talent, untiringly repeat his sweetest notes,
until he has what he wants, when his song, like the nightingale's,
immediately ceases, never again to be heard."

"Take that down," murmured Irais aside to Minora--unnecessary advice,
for her pencil was scribbling as fast as it could.

"A woman's vanity is so immeasurable that, after having
had ninety-nine object-lessons in the difference between
promise and performance and the emptiness of pretty speeches,
the beginning of the hundredth will find her lending
the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence
of flattery as she did on the occasion of the first.
What can the exhortations of the strong-minded sister,
who has never had these experiences, do for such a woman?
It is useless to tell her she is man's victim, that she is
his plaything, that she is cheated, down-trodden, kept under,
laughed at, shabbily treated in every way--that is not a true