adorned with each gift of heart and of intellect—­such a woman as history tells of, a heroine of glory, happiness, love—­you will still be all unaware if you have not learned, yourself, to detect and to love these gifts in actual life; and what is actual life to each man but the life that he lives himself?  All that is loyal within you will flower in the loyalty of the woman you love; whatever of truth there abides in your soul will be soothed by the truth that is hers; and her strength of character can be only enjoyed by that which is strong in you.  And when a virtue of the being we love finds not, on the threshold of our heart, a virtue that resembles it somewhat, then is it all unaware to whom it shall give the gladness it brings.

112.  And whatever the fate your affections may meet with, do you never lose courage; above all, do not think that, love’s happiness having passed by you, you will never, right up to the end, know the great joy of human life.  For though happiness appear in the form of a torrent, or a river that flows underground, of a whirlpool or tranquil lake, its source still is ever the same that lies deep down in our heart; and the unhappiest man of all men can conceive an idea of great joy.  It is true that in love there is ecstasy that he doubtless never will know; but this ecstasy would leave deep melancholy only in the earnest and faithful heart, if there were not in veritable love something more stable than ecstasy, more profound and more steadfast; and all that in love is profoundest, most stable and steadfast, is profoundest in noble lives too—­is most stable and steadfast in them.  Not to all men is it given to be hero or genius, victorious, admirable always, or even to be simply happy in exterior things; but it lies in the power of the least favoured among us to be loyal, and gentle, and just, to be generous and brotherly; he that has least gifts of all can learn to look on his fellows without envy or hatred, without malice or futile regret; the outcast can take his strange, silent part (which is not always that of least service) in the gladness of those who are near him; he that has barely a talent can still learn to forgive an offence with an ever nobler forgiveness, can find more excuses for error, more admiration for human word and deed; and the man there are none to love can love, and reverence, love.  And, acting thus, he too will have drawn near the source whither happy ones flock—­oftener far than one thinks, and in the most ardent hours of happiness even—­the source over which they bend, to make sure that they truly are happy.  Far down, at the root of love’s joys—­as at the root of the humble life of the upright man from whom fate has withheld her smile—­it is confidence, sincerity, generosity, tenderness, that alone are truly fixed and unchangeable.  Love throws more lustre still on these points of light, and therefore must love be sought.  For the greatest advantage of love is that it reveals to us many a peaceful