me when others were around,
only to embrace me with passion as soon
as everyone had left. Women sleep so soundly they seem to be dead.
Who knows? Women may live in order to sleep. These and various
other generalizations were products of an observation of women since
boyhood days, but my conclusion was that though women appear to
belong to the same species as man, they are actually quite different
creatures, and these incomprehensible, insidious beings have, fantastic
as it seems, always looked after me. In my case such an expression as
"to be fallen for" or even "to be loved" is not in the least appropriate;
perhaps it describes the situation more accurately to say that I was
"looked after."
Women were also less demanding than men when it came to my
clowning. When I played the jester men did not go on laughing
indefinitely. I knew that if I got carried away by my success in
entertaining a man and overdid the role, my comedy would fall flat,
and I was always careful to quit at a suitable place. Women, on the
other hand, have no sense of moderation. No matter how long I went on
with my antics they would ask for more, and I would become exhausted
responding to their insatiable demands for encores. They really laugh
an amazing amount of the time. I suppose one can say that women stuff
themselves with far more pleasures than men.
The two cousins in whose house I was living while attending school
used to visit my room whenever they had the time. Their knock on my
door, no matter how often it came, never failed to startle me so that I
almost jumped in fright.
"Are you studying?"
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