XVI

How to Be Victorious in Love


Is what you write me possible, Marquis, what, the Countess continues
obdurate? The flippant manner in which she receives your attentions
reveals an indifference which grieves you? I think I have guessed the
secret of the riddle. I know you. You are gay, playful, conceited
even, with women as long as they do not impress you. But with those
who have made an impression upon your heart, I have noticed that you
are timid. This quality might affect a bourgeoise, but you must attack
the heart of a woman of the world with other weapons. The Countess
knows the ways of the world. Believe me, and leave to the Celadons,
such things as sublime talk, beautiful sentiments; let them spin out
perfection. I tell you on behalf of women: there is not one of us who
does not prefer a little rough handling to too much consideration. Men
lose through blundering more hearts than virtue saves.

The more timidity a lover shows with us the more it concerns our pride
to goad him on; the more respect he has for our resistance, the more
respect we demand of him. We would willingly say to you men: "Ah, in
pity's name do not suppose us to be so very virtuous; you are forcing
us to have too much of it. Do not put so high a price upon your
conquest; do not treat our defeat as if it were something difficult.
Accustom our imagination by degrees to seeing you doubt our
indifference."

When we see a lover, although he may be persuaded of our gratitude,
treat us with the consideration demanded by our vanity, we shall