You are quite fenfible of the whole worth of her rival; you acknowledge the wrongs you do her; you confefs yourself to be à monster of ingratitude, and yet you cannot exert refolution enough, to merit her forgiveness! In truth Marquis, I am at a lofs to account for you; and begin to agree with Madame de Sevigné, who fays,that her fon knows his duty, and can reafon upon it well; but his paffions hurry him away; fo that it is not his head that is mad, but his heart".

It would be idle here, to repeat to me what I formerly advanced, about the cavalier manner in which the affair of love was to be treated. At that time, I rather amused myself with fome light reflections, than pretended to give you advice in form. Befides, the question then, regarded only a flight, a tempo

In her letters to Madame de Grignan, her daughter.

rary attachment, a common mistress; but your prefent fituation is of quite a different nature. I am certain, that there is not, in the whole circuit of Paris, any woman, who can be brought even within the degrees of comparison, with that amiable perfon you are now quitting, fo foolishly. And for what reafon, I pray you? Because forfooth, her refiftance mortifies your vanity. Kind, or unkind, we equally lofe ye! What bonds remain there, to withhold fuch fugitives?

However, I agree with you, that when a paffion is in embers, it is no easy matter to receive the flame. One bas it no more in their power, to continue love than they bad to refift it. I confess the truth of fuch maxims, but confess thèm with regret, when I confider, that in confequence of them, you are quitting the jewel, for the pafte; that you renounce a folid happinefs, and lafting pleasures,'

pleasures, for tranfient joys, and capricious appetites.

But, I forefee that all my reafonings will not reclaim you. I begin even to apprehend, that you are grown weary of my moral; and to speak the truth, I think it almost ridiculous to preach up conftancy to you, after it has ap peared your love has ceased, and that your heart is mad. I refign you there-, fore, to your evil genius; though I may perhaps, ftill have good-nature, or curiofity enough, to accompany you in your future wanderings. What avails it to afflict one's felf? Should I affume the air of a pedagogue ?-Not I trulyWe should neither of us gain any thing by the bargain. I fhould only tire myself, without, reforming you..> So, fare you well.

LET.

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I

LETTER XLVIII.

Muft confefs Marquis, that your

late behaviour toward the Countess, had put me a good deal out of humour with you; and I was very near breaking off all commerce between us, upon confidering what a good-for-nothing fort of fellow you are. But the eafinefs with which I have relented at your inftances, makes me imagine, that my friendship for you, has fome mixture of weakness in it.

What you fay is true enough, that to continue one's attachment to a perfon, only while they listen to our counfels, is but being half a friend. The more dangerous your fituation is, the less certainly, I should abandon you. But, one is not always mafler of their first movements. Whatever efforts I made, to philofophize away your guilt, were borne

down,

down, by the fuperior interefts I had taken, in the misfortunes of my fair ally. And who could avoid thinking you highly criminal, when you had given fo charming a woman cause of complaint against you? But at present, fince I find her fituation beginning to grow eafier, every day, I am almost forry for the coolness of my laft letter.

I shall henceforth, content myfelf in compaffionating her, without ever urging you any farther, upon this fubject; fo let us carry on our former intercourse, with the fame careless freedom as be fore. You need apprehend no more lectures from me; for I perceive they would, after this, be both useless, and out of feafon.

I wish you health. Adieu,

15

LET