110.  Destinies sometimes are met with that thus are perfectly happy; and each man, it may be, is entitled to hope that such may one day be his; yet must his hope be never permitted to fasten chains on his life.  All he can do is to make preparation one day to deserve such a love; and he will be most patient and tranquil who incessantly strives to this end.  It might so have happened that he whom we spoke of just now should, day after day, from youth to old age, have passed by the side of the wall behind which his happiness lay waiting, enwrapped in too secret a silence.  But if happiness lie yonder side of the wall, must despair and disaster of necessity dwell on the other?  Is not something of happiness to be found in our thus being able to pass by the side of our happiness?  Is it not better to feel that a mere slender chance—­transparent, one almost might call it—­is all that extends between us and the exquisite love that we dream of, than to be divided for ever therefrom by all that is worthless within us, undeserving, inhuman, abnormal?  Happy is he who can gather the flower, and bear it away in his bosom; yet have we no cause to pity the other who walks until nightfall, steeped in the glorious perfume of the flower no eyes can behold.  Must the life be a failure, useless and valueless, that is not as completely happy as it possibly might have been?  It is you yourself would have brought what was best in the love you regret; and if, as we said, the soul at the end possess only what it has given, does not something already belong to us when we are incessantly seeking for chances of giving?  Ah yes—­I declare that the joy of a perfect, abiding love is the greatest this world contains; and yet, if you find not this love, naught will be lost of all you have done to deserve it, for this will go to deepen the peace of your heart, and render still braver and purer the calm of the rest of your days.

111.  And, besides, we always can love.  If our own love be admirable, most of the joys of admirable love will be ours.  In the most perfect love, the lovers’ happiness will not be exactly the same, be their union never so close; for the better of the two needs must love with a love that is deeper; and the one that loves with a deeper love must be surely the happier.  Let your task be to render yourself worthy of love—­and this even more for your own happiness than for that of another.  For be sure that when love is unequal, and the hours come clouded with sorrow, it is not the wiser of the two who will suffer the most—­not the one that shows more generosity, justice, more high-minded passion.  The one who is better will rarely become the victim deserving our pity.  For, indeed, to be truly a victim it must be our own faults, our injustice, wrongdoing, beneath which we suffer.  However imperfect you be, you still may suffice for the love of a marvellous being; but for your love, if you are not perfect, that being will never suffice.  If fortune one day should lead to your dwelling the woman