it certain, nothing can be better arranged.  Never finish one affair without having commenced another; never withdraw from the first except in proportion as the second one progresses.  Nothing can be better, but in spite of such wise precautions, you may find yourself destitute of any, as, for example, some event beyond the reach of human foresight may interfere with these arrangements, may have for principle always to finish with all the mistresses at once, before enabling you to find any one to keep you busy during the interregnum.  I feel free to confess, Marquis, that such an arrangement is as prudent as can be imagined, and I do not doubt that you will be well pleased with a plan so wisely conceived.  Adieu.

I do not know where I obtain the courage to write you such long and foolish letters.  I find a secret charm in entertaining you, which I should suspect if I did not know my heart so well.  I have been reflecting that it is now without any affair, and I must henceforth be on my guard against you, for you have very often thought proper to say very tender things to me, and I might think proper to believe in their sincerity.

L

Some Women Are Very Cunning

You may derive as much amusement out of it as you wish, Marquis, but I shall continue to tell you that you are not fascinated by Madame la Presidente.  Believe me when I say that I see more clearly into your affairs than you do yourself.  I have known a hundred good men who, like you, pretended with the best faith in the world that they were amorous, but who, in truth were not in any manner whatsoever.

There are maladies of the heart as well as maladies of the body; some are real and some are imaginary.  Not everything that attracts you toward a woman is love.  The habit of being together, the convenience of seeing each other, to get away from one’s self, the necessity for a little gallantry, the desire to please, in a word, a thousand other reasons which do not resemble a passion in the least; these are what you generally take to be love, and the women are the first to fortify this error.  Always flattered by the homage rendered them, provided their vanity profits by it, they rarely inquire into the motives to which they owe it.  But, after all, are they not right?  They would nearly always lose by it.

To all the motives of which I have just spoken, you can add still another, quite as capable of creating an illusion in the nature of your sentiments.  Madame la Presidente is, without contradiction, the most beautiful woman of our time; she is newly married; she refused the homage of the most amiable man of our acquaintance.  Perhaps nothing could be more flattering to your vanity than to make a conquest which would not fail to give you the kind of celebrity to which you aspire.  That, my dear Marquis, is what you call love, and it will be difficult for you to disabuse yourself of the impression, for by force