cter. We never met a man we were afraid of. Those who might
have been redoubtable, were obliged to make themselves ridiculous
before being permitted to enjoy our society.

"But what finally led me to doubt the truth of my principles, is they
did not always guard me from the dangers I wished to avoid. I have
learned through my own experience, that love is a traitor with whom it
will not do to trifle. I do not know by what fatality, the Marquis de
Sevigne was able to render my projects futile. In spite of all my
precautions he has found the way to my heart. However much I resisted
him I was impelled to love him, and my reason is of no more use to me
except to justify in my own eyes the inclination I feel for him. I
would be happy if he never gave me an occasion to change my
sentiments. I have been unable to hide from him my true thoughts, I
was afraid at first that he might deem me actually as ridiculous as I
seemed to be. And when my sincerity shall render me less amiable in
his eyes (for I know that frivolity captures men more than real
merit), I wish to show myself to him in my true colors. I should blush
to owe nothing to his heart but a perpetual lie of my whole being."

"I am still less surprised, Madame," said Monsieur de la Sabliere, "at
the novelty of your project, than at the skill with which you have
succeeded in rendering such a singular idea plausible. Permit me to
say, that it is not possible to go astray with more spirit. Have you
experimented with everybody according to your system? Men go a long
way around to avoid the beaten track, but they all fall over the same
obstacles. To make use of the privilege you granted me to tell you
plainly my thought, believe me, Countess, that the only way for you to
preserve your peace of mind is to resume openly your position as a
reasonable woman. There is nothing to be gained by compounding with
virtue."

When I heard the conversation taking that complexion, I knew it would
soon finish, and I therefore promptly withdrew, and could not think of
anything but satisfying your curiosity. I am tired of writing. In two
days I shall return to Paris.

XXXII

The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart

Well, Marquis, here I am back again, but the news I bring you may not
be altogether to your liking. You have never had so fine an occasion
to charge women with caprice. I wrote you the last time to tell you
that you were loved, to-day I write just the contrary.

A