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I think I perceive in you a secret desire to widen the narrow circle of the life to which all women are condemned, and to put love and passion into marriage. Ah! it is a lovely dream! it is not impossible; it is difficult, but if realized, may it not be to the despair of souls forgive me the hackneyed word "incompris"? If you seek a platonic friendship it will be to your sorrow in after years.
We are all incompris, only more or less concerned for the mischance; all trying wrongly to do right; all fawning at each other's feet like dumb, neglected lapdogs. Sometimes we catch an eye this is our opportunity in the ages and we wag our tail with a poor smile. "Is that all?" All? If you only knew! But how can they know?
Ludlow, "that telling people what's right, won't make them do it; but not a new fact, though that ass the world has quite forgotten it; and assures you that dear sweet 'incompris' mankind only wants to be told the way to the millennium to walk willingly into it which is a lie. If you want to get mankind, if not to heaven, at least out of hell, kick them out."
I am homme incompris, and Mademoiselle here Mademoiselle is either une enfant, or she does not know her own mind. Shall I give the Comte Chavannes his conge, or shall I not? I shall not, for if she be une enfant, it is fit her friends look after her; if she does not know her own mind, it is good she have some one who do! voila tout. Here is why I shall not go congedier monsieur le Comte.
Well, I don't object to a woman's thinking strongly on religious subjects: it's the only safe ground for her strong thinking, and even there she had better feel strongly. Did you succeed in convincing her that Archbishop Laud was a saint incompris, and the good King Charles a blessed martyr." Dunham did not answer till he had choked down some natural resentment.
He was a tall, slenderly built man, with whimsical brown eyes and the half-stern, half-sweet mouth of one who has been through the mill of physical pain. "Homme incompris," he suggested lightly. "Give the fellow his due he at least supplies the feminine half of Monkshaven with a topic of perennial interest."
"Hasn't every man a right to ask for what shall I say a little understanding from the woman he cares for?" "Edith, what has he told you?" "Nothing, my dear, that I hadn't seen for myself." "Did he tell you that I 'misunderstood' him?" "Did he pose as l'homme incompris? No, he didn't." "Still he told you," Anne insisted. "Of course he did."
He is a fortunate voyager who finds many. We travel, indeed, to find them. They are the end and the reward of life. They keep us worthy of. ourselves; and when we are alone, we are only nearer to the absent. We are all INCOMPRIS, only more or less concerned for the mischance; all trying wrongly to do right; all fawning at each other's feet like dumb, neglected lap-dogs.
Each of them had, at last, the occasion, and therefore the power, to fill out the lines of his proper individuality. As M. Henri Bordeaux excellently says, "L'esprit inquiet ne se contente de rien, le coeur inapaisé se croit incompris." But now these men knew their vocation, and a precocious experience of life developed in them a temper of meditation.
Accepting the challenge, he added: "Yes, I should really like to meet a few Etruscans in Fiesole this morning. I should feel as if I'd got amongst my contemporaries at last; they would understand me." The girl's face flushed. "Then no one else can understand you?" "Apparently not. I am the great American incompris."
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