sky and my eyes lost themselves in its measureless expanse. From it I turned again to my book. From afar the clock struck the hour. The sky attracted me again. Soft clouds appeared, and made me think of the sea, the restless, never quiet sea, that I had seen only once. I recalled a few lines I had once read somewhere, "There are places and times when the aspect of the sea is dangerous, fatal as is the gaze of woman." I remembered the simile impressed me as being most striking and beautiful. I had half forgotten it, but the look of the sky now revived its memory. I knew not the book in which I had read it, but the passage lived. If the sea is dangerous, then it must be an angry look that compares with it, but is a woman's look of anger ever awe-inspiring to man? Not being a man, I could not judge that, but I had to smile at the pusillanimity of man. I could not imagine such an angry look, such exasperation in a man as would discompose me. I am usually considered mild-natured, the sight of the least suffering in others moves me instantly, and for one I love I could sacrifice all my desires; but could another's anger tame me?
