There is a curious antagonism between the sexes. They are in a manner
foes, not friends. The successful wooer is the captor, the raptor; the
bride is the capture, the rapture. (1) And
Even she who is minded to be caught will not spare her huntsman the ardor
of the chase, and lightly esteems him who imagines she is to be lightly
won.
In the chess-like game of love-making, no woman plays for check-mate: the
game interests her too much to bring it to a finish. What pleases her
most is stale-mate, where, though the King cannot be captured, the
captress can maneuver without end.
A man imagines he wins by strenuous assault. The woman knows the victory
was due to surrender.
(1) Etymologically as well as metaphorically--and veritably.
* * *
Wouldst thou ask ought of a woman? Question her eyes: they are vastly
more voluble than her tongue. Indeed,
There is no question too subtle, too delicate, too recondite, or too
rash, for human eyes to ask or answer. And
He who has not learned the language of the eyes, has yet to learn the
alphabet of love. Besides,
Love speaks two languages: one with the lips; the other with the eyes.
(There is really a third; but this is Pentecostal.) At all events,
Lovers always talk in a cryptic tongue.
There is but one universal language: the ocular--not Volapuk nor
Esperanto is as intelligible or as efficacious as this.
* * *
No woman can be coerced into love,--though she may be coerced into
marriage. And
Man, the clumsy wielder of one blunt weapon, often enough stands agape at
his own powerlessness before the invulnerable woman of his desire.
Indeed,
The battle between the coquettish maid and determined man is like the
battle between the Retiarius and the Mirmillio. The coquetry ensnares
the man as with a net against which his sword is useless.
* * *
A woman's emotions are as practical as a man's reason.
A man's emotions are never practical. This is why,