wer for her heart.

You must manage the Countess as her character requires; she is lively,
and playful, and by trifling follies you must lead her to love. Do not
even let her see that she distinguishes you from other men, and be as
playful as she is light hearted. Fix yourself in her heart without
giving her any warning of your intention. She will love you without
knowing it, and some day she will be very much astonished at having
made so much headway without really suspecting it.

XVII

Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation

Perhaps, Marquis, you will think me still more cruel than the
Countess. She is the cause of your anxieties, it is true, but I am the
cause of something worse; I feel a great desire to laugh at them. Oh,
I enter into your troubles seriously enough, I can not do more, and
your embarrassment appears great to me. Really, why risk a declaration
of love to a woman who takes a wicked pleasure in avoiding it on every
occasion? Now, she appears affected, and then again, she is the most
unmindful woman in the world in spite of all you do to please her. She
listens willingly and replies gaily to the gallant speeches and bold
conversation of a certain Chevalier, a professional coxcomb, but to
you she speaks seriously and with a preoccupied air. If you take on a
tender and affectionate tone, she replies flippantly, or perhaps
changes the subject. All this intimidates you, troubles you, and
drives you to despair. Poor Marquis!--and I answer you, that all this
is love, true and beautiful. The absence of mind which she affects
with you, the nonchalance she puts on for a mask, ought to make you
feel at heart that she is far from being indifferent. But your lack of
boldness, the consequences which she feels must follow such a passion
as yours, the interest which she already takes in your condition, all
this intimidates the countess herself, and it is you who raise
obstacles in her path. A little more boldness on your part would put
you both at your ease. Do you remember what M. de la Rochefoucauld
told you lately: "A reasonable man in love may act like a madman, but
he should not and can not act like an idiot."

Besides, when you compare your respect and esteem with the free and
almost indecent manner of the Chevalier; when you draw from it the
conclusion that she should prefer you to him, you do not know how
incorrectly you argue. The Chevalier is nothing but a gallant, and