e seemliest household in the
company."

"I am well aware before whom I speak," said Longarine. "Your wives are
so sensible and bear you so much love, that if you were to give them
horns as big as those of a deer, they would nevertheless try to persuade
themselves and every one else that they were chaplets of roses."

At this the company, and even those concerned, laughed so heartily that
their talk came to an end. However, Dagoucin, who had not yet uttered a
word, could not help saying--

"Men are very unreasonable when, having enough to content themselves
with at home, they go in search of something else. I have often seen
people who, not content with sufficiency, have aimed at bettering
themselves, and have fallen into a worse position than they were in
before. Such persons receive no pity, for fickleness is always blamed."

"But what say you to those who have not found their other half?" asked
Simontault. "Do you call it fickleness to seek it wherever it may be
found?"

"Since it is impossible," said Dagoucin, "for a man to know the
whereabouts of that other half with whom there would be such perfect
union that one would not differ from the other, he should remain
steadfast wherever love has attached him. And whatsoever may happen, he
should change neither in heart nor in desire. If she whom you love be
the image of yourself, and there be but one will between you, it is
yourself you love, and not her."

"Dagoucin," said Hircan, "you are falling into error. You speak as
though we should love women without being loved in return."

"Hircan," replied Dagoucin, "I hold that if our love be based on the
beauty, grace, love, and favour of a woman, and our purpose be pleasure,
honour, or profit, such love cannot long endure; for when the foundation
on which it rests is gone, the love itself departs from us. But I am
firmly of opinion that he who loves with no other end or desire than to
love well, will sooner yield up his soul in death than suffer his great
love to leave his heart."

"In faith," said Simontault, "I do not believe that you have ever been
in love. If you had felt the flame like other men, you would not now be
picturing to us Plato's _Republic_, which may be described in writing
but not be put into practice."

"Nay, I have been in love," said Dagoucin, "and am so still, and
shall continue so as long as I live. But I am in such fear lest the
manifestation of this love should impair its perfection, that