Fontaine will regale you with two new stories, which,
I am told, do not disparage his former ones. Come Marquis--But, again
a scruple. Have I nothing to fear in the undertaking we contemplate?
Love is so malicious and fickle! Still, when I examine my heart, I do
not feel any apprehension for myself, it being occupied elsewhere, and
the sentiments I possess toward you resemble love less than
friendship. If the worst should happen and I lose my head some day, we
shall know how to withdraw in the easiest possible manner.

We are going to take a course of morals together. Yes, sir, MORALS!
But do not be alarmed at the mere word, for there will be between us
only the question of gallantry to discuss, and that, you know, sways
morals to so high a degree that it deserves to be the subject of a
special study. The very idea of such a project is to me infinitely
risible. However, if I talk reason to you too often, will you not grow
weary? This is my sole anxiety, for you well know that I am a pitiless
reasoner when I wish to be. With any other heart than that which you
misunderstand, I could be a philosopher such as the world never knew.

Adieu, I await your good pleasure.

II

Why Love is Dangerous

I assure you, Marquis, I shall keep my word, and on all occasions, I
shall speak the truth, even though it be to my own detriment. I have
more stability in my disposition than you imagine, and I fear
exceedingly that the result of our intercourse may sometimes lead you
to think that I carry this virtue into severity. But you must remember
that I have only the external appearance of a woman, and that in mind
and heart I am a man. Here is the method that I wish to follow with
you. As I ask only to acquire information for myself before
communicating to you my ideas, my intention is to propound them to the
excellent man with whom we supped yesterday. It is true that he has
none too good an opinion of poor humanity. He believes neither in
virtue nor in spiritual things. But this inflexibility, mitigated by
my indulgence for human frailties, will give you, I believe, the kind
and the quantity of philosophy which is required in all intercourse
with women. Let us come to the gist of your letter.

Since your entrance into the world it has offered you nothing, you
say, of what you had imagined you would find there. Disgust and
weariness follow you everywhere. You seek solitude, and as soon as
you are enjoying it, it wearies you.