rough me like a sharp, cold
dagger's point. Do you know what that means? I mistrusted you, and the
pang was so terrible, I could not endure it longer. If my service be
too hard, leave it, I would not keep you. Do I need any proof of your
cleverness? Keep for me the flowers of your wit. Show to others no fine
surface to call forth flattery, compliments, or praise. Come to me,
laden with hatred or scorn, the butt of calumny, come to me with the
news that women flout you and ignore you, and not one loves you; then,
ah! then you will know the treasures of Louise's heart and love.

We are only rich when our wealth is buried so deep that all the world
might trample it under foot, unknowing. If you were handsome, I don't
suppose I should have looked at you twice, or discovered one of the
thousand reasons out of which my love sprang. True, we know no more of
these reasons than we know why it is the sun makes the flowers to bloom,
and ripens the fruit. Yet I could tell you of one reason very dear to
me.

The character, expression, and individuality that ennoble your face are
a sealed book to all but me. Mine is the power which transforms you into
the most lovable of men, and that is why I would keep your mental gifts
also for myself. To others they should be as meaningless as your eyes,
the charm of your mouth and features. Let it be mine alone to kindle the
beacon of your intelligence, as I bring the lovelight into your eyes.
I would have you the Spanish grandee of old days, cold, ungracious,
haughty, a monument to be gazed at from afar, like the ruins of some
barbaric power, which no one ventures to explore. Now, you have nothing
better to do than to open up pleasant promenades for the public, and
show yourself of a Parisian affability!

Is my ideal portrait, then, forgotten? Your excessive cheerfulness was
redolent of your love. Had it not been for a restraining glance from me,
you would have proclaimed to the most sharp-sighted, keen-witted,
and unsparing of Paris salons, that your inspiration was drawn from
Armande-Louise-Marie de Chaulieu.

I believe in your greatness too much to think for a moment that your
love is ruled by policy; but if you did not show a childlike simplicity
when with me, I could only pity you. Spite of this first fault, you are
still deeply admired by LOUISE DE CHAULIEU.

XXIII. FELIPE TO LOUISE

When God beholds our faults, He sees also our repentance. Yes, my
beloved mistress, you are r