To enjoy the present moment--to snatch that
chance of happiness from the fleeting hour, which the next hour is
chasing and may utterly destroy--seems the only aim. Love is an
amusement, constancy a phantom, in which no one believes--which is
only spoken of in nursery fairy tales. The women have learned, by
experience, that their husbands and lovers did not die of longing to
see them; that they themselves, after the tears of separation, which
perhaps flowed freely a long time, were once quenched, could live on
alone; that independence had its bright side and was both agreeable
and comfortable. The history of the widow of Ephesus is repeated
every day, my friend. The women wept and were melancholy a long time
after the separation from their husbands, but at last they could not
close their ears to the sweet, soft words of consolation which were
whispered to them; at last they realized that incessant weeping and
mourning had its wearisome and monotonous side, that the dreary time
flew more swiftly if they sought to amuse themselves and be happy.
They allowed themselves to be comforted, in the absence of their
husbands, by their lovers, and they felt no reproach of conscience;
for they were convinced that their truant husbands were doing the
same thing in their long separation--were making love to 'the lips
that were near.
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