oubt upon the verity
of the former, because you are born to love as long as you live.
Lovers and gamblers have something in common: Who has loved will love.
If I had been told that you had become devout, I might have believed
it, for that would be to pass from a human passion to the love of God,
and give occupation to the soul. But not to love, is a species of
void, which can not be consistent with your heart.

Ce repos languissant ne fut jamais un bien;
C'est trouver sans mouvoir l'etat ou l'on n'est rien.

('Twas never a good this languishing rest;
'Tis to find without search a state far from blest.)

I want to know about your health, your occupations, your inclinations,
and let it be in a long enough letter, with moralizing and plenty of
affection for your old friend.

The news here is that the Count de Grammont is dead, and it fills me
with acute sorrow.

If you know Barbin, ask him why he prints so many things that are not
mine, over my name? I have been guilty of enough folly without
assuming the burden of others. They have made me the author of a
diatribe against Pere Bouhours, which I never even imagined. There is
no writer whom I hold in higher esteem. Our language owes more to him
than to any other author.

God grant that the rumor of Count de Grammont's death be false, and
that of your health true. The Gazette de Hollande says the Count de
Lauzun is to be married. If this were true he would have been summoned
to Paris, besides, de Lauzun is a Duke, and the name "Count" does not
fit him.

Adieu. I am the truest of your servants, who would gain much if you
had no more lovers, for I would be the first of your friends despite
an absence which may be called eternal.

II

Ninon de L'Enclos to Saint-Evremond

It is sweet to remember those we have loved

I was alone in my chamber, weary of reading, when some one exclaimed:
"Here is a messenger from Saint-Evremond!" You can imagine how quickly
my ennui disappeared--it left me in a moment.

I have been speaking of you quite recently, and have learned many
things which do not appear in your letters--about your perfect health
and your occupation. The joy in my mind indicates its strength, and
your letter assures me that England promises you forty years more of
life, for I believe that it is only in England that they speak of men
who have passed the fixed period of human life. I had hoped to pass
the rest of my days with you, and if you had poss