more lesson, said in an almost expiring voice:

"Approach nearer, Ninon; you see nothing left me but a sad memory of
the pleasures that are leaving me. Their possession was not of long
duration, and that is the only complaint I have to make against
nature. But, alas! my regrets are vain. You who must survive me,
utilize precious time, and have no scruples about the quantity of your
pleasures, but only of their quality."

Saying which, he immediately expired. The philosophical security
exhibited by her father in his very last moments, inspired Ninon with
the same calmness of spirit, and she bore his loss with equanimity,
disdaining to exhibit any immoderate grief lest she dishonor his
memory and render herself an unworthy daughter and pupil.

The fortune left her by her father was not so considerable as Ninon
had expected. It had been very much diminished by extravagance and
speculation, but as she had in mind de la Rochefoucauld's maxim:
"There are some good marriages, but no delicious ones," and did not
contemplate ever wearing the chains of matrimony, she deposited her
fortune in the sinking funds, reserving an income of about eight
thousand livres per annum as sufficient to maintain her beyond the
reach of want. From this time on she abandoned herself to a life of
pleasure, well regulated, it must be confessed, and in strict
accordance with her Epicurean ideas. Her light heartedness increased
with her love and devotion to pleasure, which is not astonishing, as
there are privileged souls who do not lose their tender emotions by
such a pursuit, though those souls are rare. Ninon's unrestrained
freedom, and the privilege she claimed to enjoy all the rights which
men assumed, did not give her the slightest uneasiness. It was her
lovers who became anxious unless they regulated their love according
to the rules she established for them to follow, rules which it can
not be denied, were held in as much esteem then as nowadays. The
following anecdote will serve as an illustration:

The Marquis de la Chatre had been one of her lovers for an
unconscionably long period, but never seemed to cool in his fidelity.
Duty, however, called him away from Ninon's arms, but he was
distressed with the thought that his absence would be to his
disadvantage. He was afraid to leave her lest some rival should appear
upon the scene and dispossess him in her affections. Ninon vainly
endeavored to remove his suspicions.

"No, cruel one," he