There are four ages in the life of woman; each age creates a new woman.

Vandenesse knew, no doubt, the law of these transformations (created by our modern manners and morals), but he forgot them in his own case,--just as the best grammarian will forget a rule of grammar in writing a book, or the greatest general in the field under fire, surprised by some unlooked-for change of base, forgets his military tactics.

The man who can perpetually bring his thought to bear upon his facts is a man of genius; but the man of the highest genius does not display genius at all times; if he did, he would be like to God.
After four years of this life, with never a shock to the soul, nor a word that produced the slightest discord in this sweet concert of sentiment, the countess, feeling herself developed like a beautiful plant in a fertile soil, caressed by the sun of a cloudless sky, awoke to a sense of a new self.

This crisis of her life, the subject of this Scene, would be incomprehensible without certain explanations, which may extenuate in the eyes of women the wrong-doing of this young countess, a happy wife, a happy mother, who seems, at first sight, inexcusable.
Life results from the action of two opposing principles; when one of them is lacking the being suffers.

Vandenesse, by satisfying every need, had suppressed desire, that king of creation, which fills an enormous place in the moral forces.