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526 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1837
Many women think it is no great crime to show a little coquetry with the man they love. Perhaps we have a right to this when we have sacrificed all other men to him. After all, it is a very natural and very innocent ambition to make the man of one's choice feel that one is a soul of some price, that one is worth wooing, and worth a long effort.If it were not for the fact that Sand has created more than a dozen interesting minor characters (most notably Patience, Marcasse, Mme LeBlanc, the monk John Nepomucene, and the American Arthur among them), I would probably have given up finishing the book. But Sand kept me coming back for more, and I admired her skill in this literary genre which is admittedly not my favorite.
Edmee was not fond of needlework; her mind was too vigorous to attach much importance to the effect of one shade by the side of another shade, and to the regularity of one stitch laid against another stitch. Besides, the blood flowed swiftly in her veins, and when her mind was not absorbed in intellectual work she needed exercise in the open air. But ever since her father, a prey to the infirmities of old age, had been almost unable to leave his arm-chair, she had refused to leave him for a single moment; and, since she could not always be reading and working her mind, she had felt the necessity of taking up some of those feminine occupations which, as she said, "are the amusements of captivity."