When you return to your home and are
seated before the fire, do not strike your forehead with your hands, and
do not allow sorrow to moisten your cheeks with tears, do not bitterly
cast your eyes about here and there as though seeking for a friend; do
not, under any circumstances, think of those who, under some thatched
roof, enjoy a tranquil life and who sleep holding each other by the hand;
for before you, on your luxurious bed, will sit a pale creature who
loves--your money. You will seek from her consolation for your grief, and
she will remark that you are very sad and ask if your loss was
considerable; the tears from your eyes will concern her deeply, for they
may be the cause of allowing her dress to grow old or the rings to drop
from her fingers. Do not name him who won your money that night for she
may meet him on the morrow, and she may make sweet eyes at him that would
destroy your remaining happiness. That is what is to be expected of human
frailty; have you the strength to endure it? Are you a man? Beware of
disgust, it is an incurable evil; death is more to be desired than a
living distaste for life. Have you a heart? Beware of love, for it is
worse than disease for a debauchee and it is ridiculous. Debauchees pay
their mistresses, and the woman who sells herself has no right but that
of contempt for the purchaser. Are you passionate? Take care of your
face. It is shameful for a soldier to throw down his arms and for a
debauchee to appear to hold to anything; his glory consists in touching
nothing except with hands of marble that have been bathed in oil in order
that nothing may stick to them.
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