"What sort of man are you, then, pray?" resumed the Little Countess in her
brief and abrupt tone; "I cannot understand it very well. By what right,
on what ground, do you despise me? Suppose I am really guilty of all the
intrigues which are attributed to me; what is that to you? Are you a saint
yourself? a reformer? Have you never gone astray? Are you any more
virtuous than other men of your age and condition? What right have you to
despise me? Explain!"

"Were I guilty of the sentiments which you attribute to me, madam, I
should answer, that never has any one, either in your sex or mine, taken
his own morality as the rule of his opinion and his judgment upon others;
we live as we can, and we judge as we should; it is more particularly a
very frequent inconsistency among men, to frown down unmercifully the very
weaknesses which they encourage and of which they derive the benefit. For
my part, I hold severely aloof from a degree of austerity as ridiculous in
a man as uncharitable in a Christian. And as to that unfortunate
conversation which a deplorable chance caused you to hear, and in which my
expressions, as it always happens, went far beyond the measure of my
thought, it is an offense which I can never obliterate, I know; but I
shall at least explain frankly. Every one has his own tastes and his own
way of understanding life in this world; we differ so much, you and I, and
you conceived for me, at first sight, an extreme antipathy. This
disposition, which, on one side at least, madam, was to be singularly
modified on better acquaintance, prompted me to some thoughtless
manifestations of ill-humor and vivacity of controversy. You have
doubtless suffered, madam, from the violence of my language, but much
less, I beg you to believe, than I was to suffer from it myself, after I
had recognized its profound and irreparable injustice."

This apology, more sincere than lucid, drew forth no answer. We were at