the impression of that hand,
it remains silent; touch its keys, and sounds are heard." Finish the
parallel, and draw your conclusions.

But after all, why should you complain, Monsieur, the metaphysician?
To see the Countess, hear the soft tones of her voice, render her
little attentions, carry the delicacy of sentiment beyond the range of
mortal vision, feel edified at her discourses on virtue, are not these
supreme felicity for you? Leave for earthy souls the gross sentiments
which are beginning to develop in you. To look at you to-day, it might
be said that I was not so far out of the way when I declared love to
be the work of the senses. Your own experience will compel you to avow
that I had some good reason for saying so, for which I am not at all
sorry. Consider yourself punished for your injustice. Adieu.

Your old rival, the Chevalier, has revenged himself for the rigors of
the Countess, by tying himself up with the Marquise, her relative.
This choice is assuredly a eulogy on his good taste, they are made for
each other. I shall be very much charmed to know whither their fine
passion will lead them.

XXXVI

Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women

Do you think, Marquis, that I have not felt all the sarcasm you have
deigned to turn against me on account of my pretended reconciliation
with the Countess? Know this, sir, that we have never been at outs.

It is true, she begged me to forget her vivacity, which she claimed
was due to her love, and she insisted that I should continue to give
her good counsel. But Good Heavens! Of what use are my counsels except
to provide you with an additional triumph? The best advice I can give
her is to break off her relations with you, for whatever confidence
she may have in her pride, her only preservative against you is
flight. She believes, for example, that she used her reason with good
effect in the conversation you have related to me. But every
reasonable woman does not fail to use the same language as soon as a
lover shows her some respectful pretensions.

"I only want your heart," they say, "your sentiments, your esteem is
all I desire. Alas! you will find only too many women with so little
delicacy as to believe themselves very happy in accepting what I
refuse. I will never envy them a happiness of that kind."

Be on your guard, Marquis, and do not openly combat such fine
sentiments; to doubt a woman's sincerity on such occasions, is to do
more than offe