in the midst
of the Spanish soldiers. It was the second night of the sort that my
destiny had condemned me to, immediately after two delightful nights. My
good angel doubtless found some pleasure in bringing such conjunctions
before my mind for the benefit of my instruction. At all events,
teachings of that description have an infallible effect upon natures of a
peculiar stamp.

If you should wish to close the lips of a logician calling himself a
philosopher, who dares to argue that in this life grief overbalances
pleasure, ask him whether he would accept a life entirely without sorrow
and happiness. Be certain that he will not answer you, or he will
shuffle, because, if he says no, he proves that he likes life such as it
is, and if he likes it, he must find it agreeable, which is an utter
impossibility, if life is painful; should he, on the contrary, answer in
the affirmative, he would declare himself a fool, for it would be as much
as to say that he can conceive pleasure arising from indifference, which
is absurd nonsense.

Suffering is inherent in human nature; but we never suffer without
entertaining the hope of recovery, or, at least, very seldom without such
hope, and hope itself is a pleasure. If it happens sometimes that man
suffers without any expectation of a cure, he necessarily finds pleasure
in the complete certainty of the end of his life; for the worst, in all
cases, must be either a sleep arising from extreme dejection, during
which we have the consolation of happy dreams or the loss of all
sensitiveness. But when we are happy, our happiness is never disturbed by
the thought that it will be followed by grief. Therefore pleasure, during
its active period, is always complete, without alloy; grief is always
soothed by hope.

I suppose you, dear reader, at the age of twenty, and devoting yourself
to the task of making a man of yourself by furnishing your mind with all
the knowledge necessary to render you a useful being through the activity
of your brain. Someone comes in and tells you, "I bring you thirty years
of existence; it is the immutable decree of fate; fifteen consecutive
years must be happy, and fifteen years unhappy. You are at liberty to
choose the half by which you wish to begin."

Confess it candidly, dear reader, you will not require much more
consideration to decide, and you will certainly begin by the unhappy
series of years, because you will feel that the expectation of fifteen
deligh