fascinated by Madame la
Presidente. Believe me when I say that I see more clearly into your
affairs than you do yourself. I have known a hundred good men who,
like you, pretended with the best faith in the world that they were
amorous, but who, in truth were not in any manner whatsoever.

There are maladies of the heart as well as maladies of the body; some
are real and some are imaginary. Not everything that attracts you
toward a woman is love. The habit of being together, the convenience
of seeing each other, to get away from one's self, the necessity for a
little gallantry, the desire to please, in a word, a thousand other
reasons which do not resemble a passion in the least; these are what
you generally take to be love, and the women are the first to fortify
this error. Always flattered by the homage rendered them, provided
their vanity profits by it, they rarely inquire into the motives to
which they owe it. But, after all, are they not right? They would
nearly always lose by it.

To all the motives of which I have just spoken, you can add still
another, quite as capable of creating an illusion in the nature of
your sentiments. Madame la Presidente is, without contradiction, the
most beautiful woman of our time; she is newly married; she refused
the homage of the most amiable man of our acquaintance. Perhaps
nothing could be more flattering to your vanity than to make a
conquest which would not fail to give you the kind of celebrity to
which you aspire. That, my dear Marquis, is what you call love, and it
will be difficult for you to disabuse yourself of the impression, for
by force of persuading yourself that it is love, you will, in a short
time firmly believe that the inclination is real. It will be a very
singular thing some day, to see with what dignity you will speak of
your pretended sentiments; with what good faith you will believe that
they deserve recognition, and, what will be still more agreeable, will
be the deference you will believe should be their due. But
unfortunately, the result will undeceive you, and you will then be the
first to laugh at the importance with which you treated so silly an
affair.

Shall I tell you how far injustice reaches? I am fully persuaded that
you will not become more amorous. Henceforth, you will have nothing
but a passing taste, frivolous relations, engagements, caprices; all
the arrows of love will glance from you. It is true you will not
experience its pangs, but