Jane Eyre

regions nearer the sun: to French vineyards and Italian plains; and she shall see whatever is famous in old story and in modern record: she shall taste, too, of the life of cities; and she shall learn to value herself by just comparison with others.«
    »Shall I travel? – and with you, sir?«
    »You shall sojourn at Paris, Rome, and Naples: at Florence, Venice, and Vienna: all the ground I have wandered over shall be re-trodden by you: wherever I stamped my hoof, your sylph's foot shall step also. Ten years since, I flew through Europe half mad; with disgust, hate, and rage, as my companions: now I shall revisit it healed and cleansed, with a very angel as my comforter.«
    I laughed at him as he said this. »I am not an angel,« I asserted; »and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me – for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.«
    »What do you anticipate of me?«
    »For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now, – a very little while; and then you will turn cool; and then you will be capricious; and then you will be stern, and I shall have much ado to please you: but when you get well used to me, you will perhaps like me again, –
like
me, I say, not
love
me. I suppose your love will effervesce in six months, or less. I have observed in books written by men, that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband's ardour extends. Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope never to become quite distasteful to my dear master.«
    »Distasteful! and like you again! I think I shall like you again and yet again: and I will make you confess I do not only
like,
but
love
you – with truth, fervour, constancy.«
    »Yet are you not capricious, sir?«
    »To women who please me only by their faces, I am the very devil when I find out they have neither souls nor hearts – when they open to me a perspective of flatness, triviality, and perhaps imbecility, coarseness, and ill-temper: but to the clear eye and eloquent tongue, to the soul made of fire, and the character that bends but does not break – at once supple and stable, tractable and consistent – I am ever tender and true.«
    »Had you ever experience of such a character, sir? Did you ever love such an one?«
    »I love it now.«
    »But before me: if I, indeed, in any respect come up to that difficult standard?«
    »I never met your likeness. Jane: you please me, and you master me – you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart; and while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it sends a thrill up my arm to my heart. I am influenced – conquered; and the influence is sweeter than I can express; and the conquest I undergo has a witchery beyond any triumph
I
can win. Why do you smile, Jane? What does that inexplicable, that uncanny turn of countenance mean?«
    »I was thinking, sir (you will excuse the idea; it was involuntary), I was thinking of Hercules and Samson with their charmers –«
    »You were, you little elfish –«
    »Hush, sir! You don't talk very wisely just now; any more than those gentlemen acted very wisely. However, had they been married, they would no doubt by their severity as husbands have made up for their softness as suitors; and so will you, I fear. I wonder how you will answer me a year hence, should I ask a favour it does not suit your convenience or pleasure to grant.«
    »Ask me something now, Janet – the least thing: I desire to be entreated –«
    »Indeed, I will, sir; I have my petition all ready.«
    »Speak! But if you look up and smile with that countenance, I shall swear concession before I know to what, and that will make a fool of me.«
    »Not at all, sir; I ask only this: don't send for the jewels, and don't crown me with roses: you might as well put a border of gold lace round that plain pocket handkerchief you have there.«
    »I might as well ›gild refined gold.‹ I know it: your request is granted then – for the time. I will remand the order I despatched to my banker. But you have not yet asked for anything; you have prayed a gift to be withdrawn: try again.«
    »Well, then, sir; have the goodness to gratify my curiosity, which is much piqued on one point.«
    He looked disturbed. »What? what?« he said hastily. »Curiosity is a dangerous petition: it is well I have not taken a vow to accord every request –«
    »But there can be no