| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A Passion in the Desert by Honore de Balzac: successful, he tickled her skull with the point of his dagger,
watching for the right moment to kill her, but the hardness of her
bones made him tremble for his success.
The sultana of the desert showed herself gracious to her slave; she
lifted her head, stretched out her neck and manifested her delight by
the tranquility of her attitude. It suddenly occurred to the soldier
that to kill this savage princess with one blow he must poniard her in
the throat.
He raised the blade, when the panther, satisfied no doubt, laid
herself gracefully at his feet, and cast up at him glances in which,
in spite of their natural fierceness, was mingled confusedly a kind of
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Daughter of Eve by Honore de Balzac: confidences, regrets coyly flung like flowers at his feet,
recriminations in which she excused herself for the sole purpose of
being put in the wrong.
These former lovers were speaking to each other for the first time
since their rupture; and while her husband's former love was stirring
the embers to see if a spark were yet alive, Madame Felix de
Vandenesse was undergoing those violent palpitations which a woman
feels at the certainty of doing wrong, and stepping on forbidden
ground,--emotions that are not without charm, and which awaken various
dormant faculties. Women are fond of using Bluebeard's bloody key,
that fine mythological idea for which we are indebted to Perrault.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Kenilworth by Walter Scott: necessarily lead me, I will give him a rival something worthy of
the name. He shall not be supplanted by an ignominious lackey,
whose best fortune is to catch a gift of his master's last suit
of clothes ere it is threadbare, and who is only fit to seduce a
suburb-wench by the bravery of new roses in his master's old
pantoufles. Go, begone, sir! I scorn thee so much that I am
ashamed to have been angry with thee."
Varney left the room with a mute expression of rage, and was
followed by Foster, whose apprehension, naturally slow, was
overpowered by the eager and abundant discharge of indignation
which, for the first time, he had heard burst from the lips of a
Kenilworth |
