You still have some doubts, my dear friend; and you think it would be useful to give a young and beautiful woman some idea of the number of lovers she is likely to meet with on her entrance into the world. They are neither graces nor beauty, which attract the croud you speak of; it is merely coquetry, which allures them. You remember Madame de Clarey, the most beautiful woman in our time, and without doubt one of the most available. Did you ever hear of any one's being in love with her? Every one admired and respected her, but nobody followed her; because she was truly virtuous, modest, and reserved: while her cousin Madame de Clevaux, with a very indifferent person, was continually surrounded by all the young men of fashion. Love never can subsist without hope; and, let a women be ever so charming, you may be sure, if she inspires any one with a serious passion, that she meant to do so; and that she is not entirely free from coquetry. A sensible man never loves passionately, but when he thinks he is beloved again; and a vain man would never subject his vanity to the contempt he might meet with; he depends always on being successful. Why then should he run the hazard of being humbled? Examine your heart thoroughly, my dear friend, and you will perhaps acknowledge I am in the right. Do you remember the poor Chevalier de Herbain, whose brain you almost turned, and to whom you was for ever saying, Indeed, I can never feel a mutual affection for you, and I must absolutely put an end to your addresses, but you continued to receive them; you suffered him to entertain you with his passion a thousand different ways, and you allowed him to follow you every-where, so that you took up all his attention. Was not this giving him encouragement?