Yet, when M. Paul sneered at me, I wanted to possess them more fully; his injustice stirred in me ambitious wishes⁠—it imparted a strong stimulus⁠—it gave wings to aspiration.

In the beginning, before I had penetrated to motives, that uncomprehended sneer of his made my heart ache, but by-and-by it only warmed the blood in my veins, and sent added action to my pulses. Whatever my powers⁠—feminine or the contrary⁠—God had given them, and I felt resolute to be ashamed of no faculty of his bestowal.