"In the first place," I replied to the minister, "I am far from possessing all the advantages you attribute to me; moreover, I have not the slightest ambition, and my idle life pleases me hugely." "But your country?" "What about my country?" "Do you not owe it a few years, at least, of your existence?" "And what would it do with such a gift?" "Come, come, it is impossible that you deceive yourself to such an extent, be your modesty ever so great. You know full well that your success in the world would not be what it is, if you were not of special value. No man in society is less conspicuous, or more spoken of, than you. Unless you have a great historic French name, unless you are a great poet, a celebrated artist, or a great statesman, what is the hardest thing to acquire in society--you may rely on my extensive experience--is that indescribable something which causes people to turn and look at you when your name is announced in a salon. Well, that is a privilege you enjoy; you are young, and yet you have influence, you have authority in the world, since people busy themselves very much about what you do and what you do not do." These exaggerated flatteries were so transparent that I clearly saw that M. de Sérigny wished, if I may be pardoned the expression, to work upon my feelings, to induce me as a point of honour to renounce my flirtation with Madame de V----. In spite of my sadness, this little comedy amused me, and I endeavoured to make it last as long as possible, by seeming to be caught by M. de Sérigny's praises. "But," said I, with a modest smile, "admitting, monsieur, that which is merely, I believe, a delusion of your kind nature; admitting, I say, that I have had some success in the world, and that, relatively to my years, I am even considered of some account, I do not well see what use my country could derive from these advantages." "No one can inform you better than I," replied the minister, with awkward alacrity, which proved to me that he had expected this question. "People talk a great deal, make a great fuss, over what is called diplomacy. Now do you know what the great art of diplomacy is?" he asked, with a good-natured smile. I shook my head with an air of humility. "Well, it is simply the art of pleasing. As diplomacy consists in asking and refusing, he who can please most will always gain his point; while if he is obliged to refuse, he will make his refusal sufficiently gracious, to avoid its wounding. Here lies the whole secret." I had some difficulty in suppressing a great inclination to laugh, for it struck me that the minister, jealous of my attentions to Madame de V----, was going to propose to attach me to a foreign embassy, so as to get rid of me. This was doubtless the solution of this scene; but I found the situation so amusing that I determined not to terminate it abruptly.