"To feel joy in yourself, to illuminate and charm with your intellect and graceful presence," answered Spinoza, inwardly blaming himself, thinking he had committed a fault in speaking thus.
"You jest," Olympia answered bitterly. "Once, I confess, I was vain enough to think so, but I have learned to see that nature should have sent me into the world under another mask, and at another period."
"Pray, do not belie yourself," interrupted Spinoza. "I am sure you think better of the world and of yourself. I dare not praise you, you say so often I have no eye for beauty."
Cecilia entered the room at this point, and relieved them both from a painful conversation. Spinoza soon after took his departure. He went home with a peaceful sense of self-conquest, for he thought that he had suppressed, with masculine power, the first buds of Olympia's inclination for him. A certain secret triumph he could not repress, that he should without solicitation be beloved by such a woman as Olympia.
Olympia was out of temper the whole evening, and as she lay on her bed she bedewed the pillows with bitter tears.
"Has it gone so far with thee," she said to herself, "that thou throwest thyself on any one's neck, and he stands with straightened arms!"
She sighed deeply, and Cecilia often inquired
