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ARIADNE. 137that mirroredhim." That is true. AVho is itsays that we are happiest with light and venalwomen because we are not ashamed to be withthem the mere beasts that nature made us ?Montaigne,Ithink. It is true. And besidesthat, with her, every httle lieItold her suchlies as one must always tell to women — seemedto sting me asIsaidit. She neverdoubted me!If she had doubted me once,it woulcl have beeneasy; but she always believed — always. InVenice she made her marble inmylikeness, butmade me a god. That washer fault always. Shenever saw me as the thingIam! "He sighed; a sigh selfish and restless." Woulcl you have the truth, the wholetruth?" he said, as with an effort. "AVell,then — Inever loved her;Itell youIneverloved her — No! She was so lovely, and hadso much genius, and she was so unhke allothers, and she was so utterly at peace, sogiven — over toher art and dreams, so stiff, so faraway Iwanted to destroy it all. Oh, not fromany vdeness — men are not vde; they are onlychildren; when children see a flower they must