--Love? What about
it? He was no better than other men and, moreover, he had betrayed her.
He did not love her soul, but her body.--No, he loved both, he loved
her, every bit of her!--Oh! How deceitful he had been!--No, he had not
been deceitful, he had merely deceived himself when he believed that he
loved her soul only.
They were tired of strolling up and down the boulevard, and sat down
before a cafe. She lighted a cigarette. A waiter requested her rather
uncivilly, not to smoke. The Baron demanded an explanation and the
waiter said that the cafe was a first-class establishment and the
management was anxious not to drive away respectable people by serving
_these ladies_. They rose from their seats, paid and went away. The
Baron was furious, the young Baroness had tears in her eyes.
"There they had a demonstration of the power of prejudice! Smoking was
a foolish act as far as a man was concerned, but in a woman it was a
crime! Let him who was able to do so, destroy this prejudice! Or, let
us say, him who would care to do so! The Baron had no wish that his
wife should be the first victim, even if it were to win for her the
doubtful honour of having cast aside a prejudice. For it was nothing
else. In Russia, ladies belonging to the best society smoked at the
dinner-table during the courses.
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