"
He was not in the slightest degree irritated or grieved by her tirade.
But the childlike changeableness and facility of her emotions touched
him. He savoured her youth, and himself felt curiously young. It was
the fact that within the last year he had grown younger.
He thought of great intellectuals, artists, men of action, princes,
kings--historical figures--in whom courtesans had inspired immortal
passion. He thought of the illustrious courtesans who had made
themselves heroic in legend, women whose loves were countless and
often venal, and yet whose renown had come down to posterity as
gloriously as that of supreme poets. He thought of lifelong passionate
attachments, which to the world were inexplicable, and which the world
never tired of leniently discussing. He overheard people saying: "Yes.
Picked her up somewhere, in a Promenade. She worships him, and he
adores her. Don't know where he hides her. You see them about together
sometimes--at concerts, for instance. Mysterious-looking creature she
is. Plays the part very well, too. Strange affair. But, of course,
there's no accounting for these things."
The role attracted him. And there could be no doubt that she did
worship him utterly.
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