rotest to you, this will
be the last storm I will undergo for being mixed up in your affairs,
and I very cordially renounce the confidence with which you have both
honored me. Advisers do not play a very agreeable part in such cases,
so it seems to me, always charged with what is disagreeable in
quarrels, and the lovers only profit by a reconciliation.

However, after due reflection, I think I should be very silly to take
offence at this. You are two children whose follies will amuse me, I
ought to look upon them with the eye of a philosopher, and finish by
being the friend of both. Come then, at once, and assure me if that
resolution will suit you. Now, do not play the petty cruel role any
more. Come and make peace. These poor children; one of them has such
innocent motives, the other is so sure of her virtue, that to stand in
the way of their inclination, is surely to afflict them without
reason.

XXXV

The Heart Should be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano

I am beginning to understand, Marquis, that the only way to live with
the most reasonable woman, is never to meddle with her heart affairs.
I have, therefore, made up my mind. Henceforward I shall never mention
your name to the Countess unless she insists upon my doing so; I do
not like bickerings.

But this resolution will change nothing of my sentiments for you, nor
my friendship for her. And, although I still stand her friend, I shall
not scruple to make use of my friendship, so far as you are concerned,
as I have in the past I shall continue, since you so wish it, to give
you my ideas on the situations in which you may become involved, on
condition, however, that you permit me sometimes to laugh at your
expense, a liberty I shall not take to-day, because if the Countess
follows up the plan she has formed, that is, if she persists in
refusing to see you alone, I do not see that your affairs will advance
very rapidly. She remembers what I told her, she knows her heart, and
has reason to fear it.

It is only an imprudent woman who relies upon her own strength, and
exposes herself without anxiety to the advances of the man she loves.
The agitation which animates him, the fire with which his whole person
appears to be burning, excites our senses, fires our imagination,
appeals to our desires. I said to the Countess one day: "We resemble
your clavecin; however well disposed it may be to respond to the hand
which should play upon it, until it feels