Fountain's egotism, Lucy
ended by seeing both their egotisms, as clearly as either could
desire; and, as she despised egotism, she lost her respect for both
these people, and let them convince her they were both persons against
whom she must be on her guard.
This was the direct result of their mines and countermines heretofore
narrated, but not the only result. It followed indirectly, but
inevitably, that the present holy alliance failed. Lucy had not
forgotten the past; and to her this seemed not a holy, but an unholy,
hollow, and empty alliance.
"They hate one another," said she, "but it seems they hate me worse,
since they can hide their mutual dislike to combine against poor me."
Another thing: Lucy was one of those women who thirst for love, and,
though not vain enough to be always showing they think they ought to
be beloved, have quite secret _amour propre_ enough to feel at
the bottom of their hearts that they were sent here to that end, and
that it is a folly and a shame not to love them more or less.
If ever Madame Ristori plays "Maria Stuarda" within a mile of you, go
and see her. Don't chatter: you can do that at home; attend to the
scene; the worst play ever played is not so unimproving as chit-chat.
Then, when the scaffold is even now erected, and the poor queen, pale
and tearful, palpitates in death's grasp, you shall see her suddenly
illumined with a strange joy, and hear her say, with a marvelous burst
of feminine triumph,
"I have been _amata molto!!!"_
Uttered, under a scaffold, as the Italian utters it, this line is a
revelation of womanhood.
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