and tenaciously sucking out the rich enjoyments thereof! For the gold has
entered your heart.

What splendid folly we played at Sorrento! If you had deceived yourself
with a sentiment, how long would you have maintained the illusion? When
would the morning have come for your restless eyes to stare out at the
world in longing and the unuttered sorrow of regret? Ah, I touch you but
with words! The cadence of a phrase warms your heart, and you fancy your
emotion is supreme, inevitable. Nevertheless, you are a practical goddess:
you can rise beyond the waves toward the glorious ether, but at night you
sink back. 'Tis alluring, but--eternal?

Few of us can risk being romantic. The penalty is too dreadful. To be
successful, we must maintain the key of our loveliest enthusiasm without
stimulants. You need the stimulants. You imagined that you were tired,
that rest could come in a lover's arms. Better the furs that are soft
about your neck, for they never grow cold. Perchance the lover will come,
also, as a prince with his princedom. It will be comfortable to have your
cake and the frosting, too. If not, take the frosting; go glittering on
with your pulses full of the joys, until you are old and fagged and the
stupid world refuses to revolve. Remember my sure word that you were meant
for dinners, for power and pleasure and excitement. Trust no will-o'-the-
wisp that would lead you into the stony paths of romance.

Some days in the years to come I shall enter at your feasts and watch you
in admiration and love. (For I shall always love you.) Then will stir in
your heart a mislaid feeling of some joy untasted. But you will smile
wisely, and marvel at my exact judgment. You will think of another world
where words and emotions alone are alive, where it is always high tide,
and you will be glad that you did not force the gates. For life is not