XXXII. But it has others. The tranquillity, and sweetness, which is administered to the soul by a good conscience, places in a very eminent degree, the fortune of the just, superior to that of the sinner. This is a blessing of little bulk, but of great value: a precious stone, which, within small dimensions, contains great and rich qualities. The conscience is the mirror of the soul, and it happens to the just man, and to the sinner, when they look in the glass, as it happens to the handsome, and the ugly woman, when they view themselves in the crystal; the handsome is pleased, because she sees perfections, the other is sad, because she observes nothing but blemishes. The condition of the sinner is even worse than that of the ugly woman, for she, if she pleases, may run from the glass, but the sinner cannot do this; for although he should not present himself before the mirror, the mirror will present itself before him, and the understanding cannot shut its eyes, when the memory presents to it the images of a man’s evil deeds. In that state, the sinner is filled with horror instead of delight, for his desire forsakes him, and the blemish remains by itself. In addition to this, the sinner at such a conjuncture, is made unhappy by the reflection, that his infamies may be laid open to the world; at this thought, the inevitable torture of shame, and the punishment of the law, terrify him by turns. The just man, on the contrary, has nothing to fear. If he hides his actions from the world, it is not from the dread of their being observed, but to avoid the hazard of their being applauded. He contemplates them alone, and if he is so happy as to find that they are all good, he receives that pure pleasure, which the sacred Chronologer, even in God himself, paints as an accidental glory: _Vidit Deus cuncta quæ fecerat, & erant valdè bona._