will you enjoy, in the least, its sweetness?
Can you hope ever to recover from the fantasies to which you surrender
yourself, those moments of delight which were formerly your supreme
felicity? I have no desire to flatter you, but I believe it my duty to
do you this much justice: Your heart is intended for refined
pleasures. It is not I who hold you responsible for the dissipation in
which you are plunged, it is the young fools around you. They call
enjoyment the abuse they make of pleasure; their example carries you
away. But this intoxication will be dissipated sooner or later, and
you will soon, see, at least I hope so, that you have been deceived in
two ways in the state of your heart. You thought it was fascinated by
Madame la Presidente, you will recognize your mistake; you thought she
had ceased to have an inclination for--but I hold to the words I have
uttered. Perhaps there will come a time when I shall be at liberty to
express my thoughts more freely. Now, I reply to the remainder of your
letter.

Confess it, Marquis, that you had little else to do this morning when
you re-read my letters. I add that you must have been in a bad humor
to undertake their criticism. Some brilliant engagement, some
flattering rendezvous was wanting. But I do not care to elude the
difficulty. So I seem to contradict myself sometimes? If I were to
admit that it might very well be; if I were to give you the same
answer that Monsieur de la Bruyere gave his critics the other day: "It
is not I who contradict myself, it is the heart upon which I reason,"
could you reasonably conclude from it that everything I have said to
you is false? I do not believe it.

But how do I know, in effect, if, led away by the various situations
in which you were placed, I may not have appeared to destroy what I
had advanced on different occasions? How do I know, if, seeing you
ready to yield to a whim, I may not have carried too far, truths,
which, feebly uttered, would not, perhaps, have brought you back? How
do I know, in a word, if, being interested in the happiness of a
friend, the desire to serve her may not have sometimes diminished my
sincerity? I think I am very good natured to reply seriously to the
worries you have caused me. Ought I not first to take cognizance of
the fact that there is more malice in your letter than criticism? This
will be the last time you will have an opportunity to abuse my
simplicity. I am going to console myself for your