Oh! to dare to
cast her unloveliness at his feet, if it were only to be trampled
upon and die there! No small sense of humour existed in her brain
to save her from her pathetic idiocy. Romantic humility and touching
sacrifice to the worshipped one were the ideals she had read of
in verse and song all her life. Only through such servitude and
sacrifice could woman gain man's love--and even then only if she
had beauty and the gifts worthy of her idol's acceptance.
It was really his unmitigated arrogance she worshipped and crawled
upon her poor, large-jointed knees to adore. Her education, her
very religion itself had taught that it was the sign of his nobility
and martial high breeding. Even the women of his own class believed
something of the same sort--the more romantic and sentimental
of them rather enjoying being mastered by it. To Fraulein Hirsch's
mental vision, he was a sublimated and more dazzling German
Rochester, and she herself a more worthy, because more submissive,
Jane Eyre. Ach Gott! His high-held, cropped head--his so beautiful
white hands--his proud eyes which deigned to look at her from
their drooping lids! His presence filled the shabby room with the
atmosphere of a Palace.
He asked her a few questions; he required from her certain notes she
had made; without wasting a word or glance he gave her in detail
certain further orders.
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