metimes?"

"Yes, in metaphysics."

"Oh! never mind that, for I think he could very well manage without that
study."

"You are mistaken; morals are only the metaphysics of physics; nature is
everything, and I give you leave to consider as a madman whoever tells
you that he has made a new discovery in metaphysics. But if I went on, my
dear, I might appear rather obscure to you. Proceed slowly, think; let
your maxims be the consequence of just reasoning, and keep your happiness
in view; in the end you must be happy."

"I prefer the lesson you have just taught me to the one which M. Baletti
will give me to-morrow; for I have an idea that it will weary me, and now
I am much interested."

"How do you know that you are interested?"

"Because I wish you not to leave me."

"Truly, my dear Vesian, never has a philosopher described sympathy better
than you have just done. How happy I feel! How is it that I wish to prove
it by kissing you?"

"No doubt because, to be happy, the soul must agree with the senses."

"Indeed, my divine Vesian? Your intelligence is charming."

"It is your work, dear friend; and I am so grateful to you that I share
your desires."

"What is there to prevent us from satisfying such natural desires? Let us
embrace one another tenderly."

What a lesson in philosophy! It seemed to us such a sweet one, our
happiness was so complete, that at daybreak we were still kissing one
another, and it was only when we parted in the morning that we discovered
that the door of the room had remained open all night.

Baletti gave her a few lessons, and she was received at the opera; but
she did not remain there more than two or three months, regulating her
conduct carefully according to the precepts I had laid out for her. She
never received Narbonne again, and at last accepted a nobleman who proved
himself very different from all others, for the first thing he did was to
make her give up the stage, although it was not a thing according to the
fashion of those days. I do not recollect his name exactly; it was Count
of Tressan or Trean. She behaved in a respectable way, and remained with
him until his death. No one speaks of her now, although she is living in
very easy circumstances; but she is fifty-six, and in Paris a woman of
that age is no longer considered as being among the living.

After she left the Hotel de Bourgogne, I never spoke to her. Whenever I
met her covered with jewels and diamonds, our souls