, may be a
confession that one does not wish to correct them.

For myself, I take the liberty of being of a different opinion from
the multitude. It is enough for me that it is not impossible to
conquer one's inclination to condemn all those who are unreasonable or
dishonorable. Dear me! Have we not seen women succeed in destroying in
their hearts a weakness which has taken them by surprise, as soon as
they have discovered that the object of their affections was unworthy
of them? How often have they stifled the most tender affection, and
sacrificed it to the conventionalities of an establishment? Rest,
time, absence, are remedies which passion, however ardent one may have
supposed it, can never resist; insensibly it weakens, and dies all at
once. I know that to withdraw honorably from such a liaison requires
all the strength of reason. I comprehend still more, that the
difficulties you imagine stand in the way of maintaining a victory, do
not leave you enough courage to undertake it; so that, although I may
say that there are no invincible inclinations in the speculation, I
will admit that there are few of them to be vanquished by practice;
and it happens so, only because one does not like to attempt without
success. However that may be, on the whole, I imagine that there being
here only a question of gallantry, it would be folly to put you to the
torture, in order to destroy the inclination which has seized upon you
for a woman more or less amiable; but also, because you are not
smitten with anyone, I persist in saying that I was right in
describing to you the character which I believed would be the most
capable of making you happy.

It is without doubt to be desired, that delicate sentiments, real
merit, should have more power over our hearts, and that they might be
able to occupy them and find a permanent place there forever. But
experience proves that this is not so. I do not reason from what you
should be, but from what you really are. My intention is to give you a
knowledge of the heart such as it is, and not what it ought to be. I
am the first one to regret the depravity of your taste, however
indulgent I may be to your caprices. But not being able to reform the
vices of the heart, I would at least teach you to draw out of them
whatever good you can. Not being able to render you wise, I try to
make you happy. It is an old saying: to wish to destroy the passions
would be to undertake our annihilation. It is only