She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. We have known men who have come here for no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have strode into the arena of temptation, waving the—the what is it—the white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous facility for the violets of the Parisienne.
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