Today we will occupy our time discussing female flirtatiousness which is the enemy of love: she kills it or weakens it, which is worse. A flirtatious woman is like a caged bird that through its songs attracts others to it. It attracts men who break their hearts against their protective shields. Pity her more than them. Held captive by her narrow ideas and the callousness of her heart, she tramples in the darkness of her conscience, incapable of enjoying the sunshine of love that only irradiates upon generous and dedicated souls. It is harder to feel love than to inspire it and all, however, are worried and search the desired heart without first examining if what they now possess is the coveted treasure.
No, love which is the sensuality of egoism is no more love than flirtatiousness is seduction to an elevated soul. There is reason enough to reproach and obstruct these fragile relationships, shameful exchanges of vanity and miseries of all kinds.
Love remains external to those things; more than the ray of light, it is not contaminated by the reprobate who will become enlightened. Foolish are the women that don’t understand that their beauty, their virtue, is love in its abandonment, in its neglect of personal interests, and in its transmigration of the soul itself, entirely to be loved. God blesses the woman who has worn the yoke of love, rejecting those who make a precious sentiment into a trophy of vanity, a distraction to her idleness, or a sensual flame that consumes the body leaving the heart empty.
Georges
