The more a girl believes in goodness, the more easily will she give way,
if not to her lover, at least to love, for being without mistrust she
is without force, and to win her love is a triumph that can be gained
by any young man of five-and-twenty. See how young girls are watched
and guarded! The walls of convents are not high enough, mothers have
no locks strong enough, religion has no duties constant enough, to shut
these charming birds in their cages, cages not even strewn with flowers.
Then how surely must they desire the world which is hidden from them,
how surely must they find it tempting, how surely must they listen to
the first voice which comes to tell its secrets through their bars, and
bless the hand which is the first to raise a corner of the mysterious
veil!
But to be really loved by a courtesan: that is a victory of infinitely
greater difficulty. With them the body has worn out the soul, the senses
have burned up the heart, dissipation has blunted the feelings. They
have long known the words that we say to them, the means we use; they
have sold the love that they inspire. They love by profession, and not
by instinct. They are guarded better by their calculations than a virgin
by her mother and her convent; and they have invented the word caprice
for that unbartered love which they allow themselves from time to time,
for a rest, for an excuse, for a consolation, like usurers, who cheat
a thousand, and think they have bought their own redemption by once
lending a sovereign to a poor devil who is dying of hunger without
asking for interest or a receipt.
Then, when God allows love to a courtesan, that love, which at first
seems like a pardon, becomes for her almost without penitence. When a
creature who has all her past to reproach herself with is taken all at
once by a profound, sincere, irresistible love, of which she had never
felt herself capable; when she has confessed her love, how absolutely
the man whom she loves dominates her! How strong he feels with his cruel
right to say: You do no more for love than you have done for money.
They know not what proof to give. A child, says the fable, having
often amused himself by crying "Help! a wolf!" in order to disturb the
labourers in the field, was one day devoured by a Wolf, because those
whom he had so often deceived no longer believed in his cries for help.
It is the same with these unhappy women when they love seriously. They
have lied so often that no one will believe them, and in the midst of
their remorse they are devoured by their love.