by Henry James

Summary

by Henry James Madame de Mauves — Chapter 5 (1874)

It was a singular form for passionate faith to take, but it had all of the sweetness and the ardour of passionate faith. It led me to take a great step, and it lies behind me now, far off, a vague deceptive form melting in the light of experience. It has faded, but it hasn't vanished. Some feelings, I'm sure, die only with ourselves; some illusions are as much the condition of our life as our heart-beats. They say that life itself is an illusion--that this world is a shadow of which the reality is yet to come. Life is all of a piece then and there's no shame in being miserably human.
Source: Wikisource

by Henry James Madame de Mauves — Chapter 5 (1874)

Longmore said with a sinking of the heart, "and with her to love once is to commit herself for ever. Her clever husband thinks her too prim. What would a stupid poet call it?" He relapsed with aching impotence into the sense of her being somehow beyond him, unattainable, immeasurable by his own fretful logic. Suddenly he gave three passionate switches in the air with his cane which made Madame de Mauves look round. She could hardly have guessed their signifying that where ambition was so vain the next best thing to it was the very ardour of hopelessness.
Source: Wikisource

by Henry James Madame de Mauves — Chapter 5 (1874)

Longmore," she added in a moment, "that I've nothing on earth but a conscience--it's a good time to tell you so--nothing but a dogged obstinate clinging conscience. Does that prove me to be indeed of your faith and race, and have you one yourself for which you can say as much? I don't speak in vanity, for I believe that if my conscience may prevent me from doing anything very base it will effectually prevent me also from doing anything very fine."
Source: Wikisource

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