it have been such, that it is too melancholy a subject to be spoken of; it is but too true, that you were the cause of monsieur de Cleves's death; the suspicions which your inconsiderate conduct gave him cost him his life, as much as if you had taken it away with your own hands: judge what I ought to have done, had you two fought a duel, and he been killed; I know very well, it is not the same thing in the eye of the world; but with me there is no difference, since I know that his death was owing to you, and that it was on my account.—Ah! madam, said monsieur de Nemours, what phantom of duty do you oppose to my happiness? What, madam! shall a vain and groundless fancy hinder you from making a man happy, for whom you have an inclination? What! have I had some ground to hope I might pass my life with you? Has my fate led me to love the most deserving lady in the world? Have I observed in her all that can make a mistress adorable? Has she had no dislike to me? Have I found in her conduct every thing which I could wish for in a wife? For, in short, madam, you are perhaps the only person in whom those two characters have ever concurred to the degree they are in you; those who marry mistresses, by whom they are loved, tremble when they marry them, and cannot but fear lest they should observe the same conduct towards others, which they observed towards them; but in you, madam, I can fear nothing; I see nothing in you but matter of admiration: have I had a prospect of so much felicity, for no other end but to see it obstructed by you? Ah! madam, you forget, that you have distinguished me above other men; or rather, you have not distinguished me; you have deceived yourself, and I have flattered myself.
You have not flattered yourself, replied she; the reasons of my duty would not perhaps appear so strong to me, without that distinction of which you doubt; and it is that which makes me apprehend unfortunate consequences from your alliance.—I have nothing to answer,
