I will feed his passion
full, tempt him, torture him, play with him, as the angler plays a fish
upon his hook. And, when his very life depends on me, then by degrees he
shall see me cool, and cool, and freeze into bitter aversion. Then he
shall rue the hour he fought with the Devil against my soul, and played
false with a brain and heart like mine!"
"But his poor wife? You will have pity on her?"
"His wife! Are wives' hearts the only hearts that throb, and burn, and
break? His wife must defend herself. It is not from me that mercy can
come to her, nor from her to me. I loathe her, and I shall not forget
that you took her part. Only, if you are her friend, take my advice,
don't you assist her. I shall defeat her without that. Let her fight
_her_ battle, and _I_ mine.
"Ah, madam! she cannot fight; she is a dove."
"You are a fool! What do you know about women? You were with her five
minutes, and she turned you inside out. My life on it, while I have been
fooling my time here, she is in the field, with all the arts of our sex,
simplicity at the head of them."
Triplet was making a futile endeavor to convert her to his view of her
rival, when a knock suddenly came to his door. A slovenly girl, one of
his own neighbors, brought him a bit of paper, with a line written in
pencil.
"'Tis from a lady, who waits below," said the girl.
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