"
In six months he had got to this--and, mind you, each successive dogma
was delivered in a loud, aggressive tone, and in sublime oblivion of the
preceding oracle--"My niece Rosa is the most artful woman. (You may haw!
haw! haw! as much as you like. You have not found out her little game--I
have.) What is the aim of all women? To be beloved by an unconscionable
number of people. Well, she sets up for a simpleton, and so disarms all
the brilliant people, and they love her. Everybody loves her. Just you
put her down in a room with six clever women, and you will see who is
the favorite. She looks as shallow as a pond, and she is as deep as the
ocean."
At the end of the year he threw off the mask altogether. "The great
sweetener of a man's life," said he, "is 'a simpleton.' I shall not go
abroad any more; my house has become attractive: I've got a simpleton.
When I have a headache, her eyes fill with tender concern, and she
hovers about me and pesters me with pillows: when I am cross with her,
she is afraid I am ill. When I die, and leave her a lot of money,
she will howl for months, and say I don't want his money: 'I
waw-waw-waw-waw-want my Uncle Philip, to love me, and scold me.' One
day she told me, with a sigh, I hadn't lectured her for a month.
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