le that is worth remembering, and we hear little advice that
is worth following. However degenerate may be the senses of the age at
which I am living, the impressions which agreeable objects make upon
them appear to me to be so much more acute, that we are wrong to
mortify them. Perhaps it is a jealousy of the mind which deems the
part played by the senses better than its own.

M. Bernier, the handsomest philosopher I have ever known (handsome
philosopher is seldom used, but his figure, shape, manner,
conversation and other traits have made him worthy of the epithet), M.
Bernier, I say, in speaking of the senses, said to me one day:

"I am going to impart a confidence that I would not give Madame de la
Sabliere, even to Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, whom I regard as a
superior being. I tell you in confidence, that abstinence from
pleasures appears to me to be a great sin."

I was surprised at the novelty of the idea, and it did not fail to
make an impression upon my mind. Had he extended his idea, he might
have made me a convert to his doctrine.

Continue your friendship which has never faltered, and which is
something rare in relations that have existed as long as ours.

XV

Ninon de l'Enclos to Saint-Evremond

Let the Heart Speak Its Own Language

I learn with pleasure that my soul is dearer to you than my body and
that your common sense is always leading you upward to better things.
The body, in fact, is little worthy of regard, and the soul has always
some light which sustains it, and renders it sensible of the memory of
a friend whose absence has not effaced his image.

I often tell the old stories in which d'Elbene, de Charleval, and the
Chevalier de Riviere cheer up the "moderns." You are brought in at the
most interesting points, but as you are also a modern, I am on my
guard against praising you too highly in the presence of the
Academicians, who have declared in favor of the "ancients."

I have been told of a musical prologue, which I would very much like
to hear at the Paris theater. The "Beauty" who is its subject would
strike with envy every woman who should hear it. All our Helens have
no right to find a Homer, and always be goddesses of beauty. Here I am
at the top, how am I to descend?

My very dear friend, would it not be well to permit the heart to
speak its own language? I assure you, I love you always. Do not change
your ideas on that point, they have always been in my favor, and may