and you will find it good. But to refer to the second paragraph of
your letter:

You say you are all the more surprised at the coldness of the Countess
as you did not think it in earnest. According to what you say, your
conjectures are based on the indiscretions of her friends. The good
she spoke about you to them, was the main cause of your taking a fancy
to her. I know men by this trait. The smallest word that escapes a
woman's lips leads them into the belief that she has designs upon
them. Everything has some reference to their merits; their vanity
seizes upon everything, and they turn everything into profit. To
examine them closely, nearly all of them love through gratitude, and
on this point, women are not any more reasonable. So that gallantry is
an intercourse in which we want the others to go along with us, always
want to be their debtors. And you know pride is much more active in
paying back than in giving. If two lovers would mutually explain,
without reservation, the beginning and progress of their passion, what
confidences would they not exchange?

Elise, to whom Valère uttered a few general compliments, responded,
perhaps without intending to, in a more affectionate manner than is
usual in the case of such insipidities. It was enough. Valère is
carried away with the idea that from a gallant he must become a lover.
The fire is insensibly kindled on both sides; finally, it bursts
forth, and there you are, a budding passion. If you should charge
Elise with having made the first advances, nothing would appear more
unjust to her, and yet nothing could be more true. I conclude from
this that to take love for what it really is, it is less the work of
what is called invincible sympathy, than that of our vanity. Notice
the birth of all love affairs. They begin by the mutual praises we