I have blasphemed love; I have degraded it by calling it a
"necessity?" You have such noble thoughts, Marquis. What is passing in
your mind is proof of it. You can not realize, or imagine anything
less than the pure and delicate sentiments which fill your heart. To
see the Countess, hold sweet discourse with her, listen to the sound
of her gentle voice, dance attendance upon her, that is the height of
your desires, it is your supreme happiness. Far from you are those
vulgar sentiments which I unworthily substitute for your sublime
metaphysics; sentiments created for worldly souls occupied solely with
sensual pleasures. What a mistake I made! Could I imagine that the
Countess was a woman to be captured by motives so little worthy of
her? To raise the suspicion in her mind that you possessed such views,
would it not inevitably expose you to her hate, her scorn, etc.?

Are not these the inconveniences which my morality leads you to
apprehend? My poor Marquis! you are yourself deceived by your
misunderstanding of the real cause of your sentiments. Give me all
your attention: I wish to draw you away from error, but in a manner
that will best accord with the importance of what I am about to say. I
mount the tribune; I feel the presence of the god who inspires me. I
rub my forehead with the air of a person who meditates on profound
truths, and who is going to utter great thoughts. I am going to reason
according to rule.

Men, I know not by what caprice, have attached shame to the indulgence
of that reciprocal inclination which nature has bestowed upon both
sexes. They knew, however, that they could not entirely stifle its
voice, so what did they do to relieve themselves of their
embarrassment? They attempted to substitute the mere shell of an
affection wholly spiritual for the humiliating necessity of appearing