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Updated: May 6, 2025
It was terrible. More than once had she meditated suicide as she paced the little town garden where a few pale flowers bloomed. In fact, she had not yet exhausted the vast treasure of devotion and love which a loving woman bears in her heart. The romance of Adolphe was her Bible, her study, for above all else she would not be an Ellenore.
Ellenore, repeatedly left to herself, is compelled to vast labors of affection to expel the thoughts of release which captivate Adolphe when absent. The constant exchange of glances and thoughts in domestic life gives a woman such power that a man needs stronger reasons for desertion than she will ever give him so long as she loves him. This was an entirely new phase both to Etienne and to Dinah.
"And do you suppose that I shall not make it my business to restore to you all you have lost by me? Be quite easy," said Madame de la Baudraye, astounded by this attack. "Your Ellenore is not dying; and if God gives her life, if you amend your ways, if you give up courtesans and actresses, we will find you a better match than a Felicie Cardot." The two lovers were sullen.
You did not think it necessary to read the soul of Adolphe any more than your critic indeed, who saw only Ellenore. What kills that poor fellow, my dear, is that he has sacrificed his future for a woman; that he never can be what he might have been an ambassador, a minister, a chamberlain, a poet and rich.
You did not think it necessary to read the soul of Adolphe any more than your critic indeed, who saw only Ellenore. What kills that poor fellow, my dear, is that he has sacrificed his future for a woman; that he never can be what he might have been an ambassador, a minister, a chamberlain, a poet and rich.
Though you have one of those superior intellects which would make a fortune of a poet, you have never dared to take the man's point of view. "That book, my dear, is of both sexes. We agreed that books were male or female, dark or fair. In Adolphe women see nothing but Ellenore; young men see only Adolphe; men of experience see Ellenore and Adolphe; political men see the whole of social existence.
It was terrible. More than once had she meditated suicide as she paced the little town garden where a few pale flowers bloomed. In fact, she had not yet exhausted the vast treasure of devotion and love which a loving woman bears in her heart. The romance of Adolphe was her Bible, her study, for above all else she would not be an Ellenore.
"And do you suppose that I shall not make it my business to restore to you all you have lost by me? Be quite easy," said Madame de la Baudraye, astounded by this attack. "Your Ellenore is not dying; and if God gives her life, if you amend your ways, if you give up courtesans and actresses, we will find you a better match than a Felicie Cardot." The two lovers were sullen.
Though you have one of those superior intellects which would make a fortune of a poet, you have never dared to take the man's point of view. "That book, my dear, is of both sexes. We agreed that books were male or female, dark or fair. In Adolphe women see nothing but Ellenore; young men see only Adolphe; men of experience see Ellenore and Adolphe; political men see the whole of social existence.
He gives up six years of his energy at that stage of his life when a man is ready to submit to the hardships of any apprenticeship to a petticoat, which he outstrips in the career of ingratitude, for the woman who has thrown over her first lover is certain sooner or later to desert the second. Adolphe is, in fact, a tow-haired German, who has not spirit enough to be false to Ellenore.
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