a friend of virtuous inclinations and well-controlled desires—a libertine awakened by divine chastisement to a sense of his errors—in a word, a heart freed from the bondage of love and disenchanted with the charms of its Manon—then, frankly, you have judged of me too favorably. As I was when you left me four months ago, so you see me now, still in love, and still made miserable by that fatal attachment, from which, nevertheless, I do not despair of deriving happiness in the end!"
He replied that this avowal showed me to be in a condition of mind that was utterly inexcusable. "There are,
indeed," he said, "many sinners who become so intoxicated with the delusive happiness of vice, as to openly prefer it to the true happiness of virtue; but they cling to what is, at any rate, a semblance of felicity, and are the dupes of appearances. But, to recognize, as you do, that the object of your affections can only lead you into guilt and misery—and to persist in voluntarily plunging into an abyss of crime and sorrow, is a contradiction of thought and conduct which does small honor to your powers of reason."
"Ah, Tiberge!" responded I, "'tis easy for you to conquer when your arms are unopposed! Let me now argue in my turn. Can you pretend that what you call the happiness of virtue is exempt from sufferings, from disap-
