to drink, because, being obliged to plunge their heads in the water, they are at that moment defenceless.  After having considered what passes at Otaheite, I can see no other natural foundation for modesty.  Love is the miracle of civilization.  Among savage and very barbarous races we find nothing but physical love of a gross character.  It is modesty that gives to love the aid of imagination, and in so doing imparts life to it.  Modesty is very early taught to little girls by their mothers, and with extreme jealousy, one might say, by esprit de corps.  They are watching in advance over the happiness of the future lover.  To a timid and tender woman there ought to be no greater torture than to allow herself in the presence of a man something which she thinks she ought to blush at.  I am convinced that a proud woman would prefer a thousand deaths.  A slight liberty taken on the tender side by the man she loves gives a woman a moment of keen pleasure, but if he has the air of blaming her for it, or only of not enjoying it with transport, an awful doubt must be left in her mind.  For a woman above the vulgar level there is, then, everything to gain by very reserved manners.  The play is not equal.  She hazards against a slight pleasure, or against the advantage of appearing a little amiable, the danger of biting remorse, and a feeling of shame which must render even the lover less dear.  An evening passed gaily and thoughtlessly, without thinking of what comes after, is dearly paid at this price.  The sight of a lover with whom one fears that one has had this kind of wrong must become odious for several days.  Can one be surprised at the force of a habit, the slightest infractions of which are punished with such atrocious shame?  As to the utility of modesty, it is the mother of love.  As to the mechanism of the feeling, nothing is simpler.  The mind is absorbed in feeling shame instead of being occupied with desire.  Desires are forbidden, and desires lead to actions.  It is evident that every tender and proud woman—­and these two things, being cause and effect, naturally go together—­must contract habits of coldness which the people whom she disconcerts call prudery.  The power of modesty is so great that a tender woman betrays herself with her lover rather by deeds than by words.  The evil of modesty is that it constantly leads to falsehood.” (Stendhal, De l’Amour, Chapter XXIV.)

It thus happens that, as Adler remarks (Die Mangelhafte Geschlechtsempfindung des Weibes, p. 133), the sexual impulse in women is fettered by an inhibition which has to be conquered.  A thin veil of reticence, shyness, and anxiety is constantly cast anew over a woman’s love, and her wooer, in every act of courtship, has the enjoyment of conquering afresh an oft-won woman.

An interesting testimony to the part played by modesty in effecting the union of the sexes is furnished by the fact—­to which attention has often been called—­that the