I give you a thousand thanks for the tea you sent me, but the lively tone of your letter pleased me as much as your present. You will again see Madame Sandwich, whom we saw depart with regret. I could wish that her condition in life might serve to be of some consolation to you. I am ignorant of English customs, but she was quite French while here. A thousand adieux, my friend. If one could think as did Madame de Chevreuse, who believed when dying that she was going to converse with all her friends in the other world! It would be a sweet thought. VIII Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos Love Banishes Old Age Your life, my well beloved, has been too illustrious not to be lived in the same manner until the end. Do not permit M. de la Rochefoucauld's "hell" to frighten you; it was a devised hell he desired to construct into a maxim. Pronounce the word "love" boldly, and that of "old age" will never pass your lips. There is so much spirit in your letters, that you do not leave me even to imagine a decline of life in you. What ingratitude to be ashamed to mention love, to which we owe all our merit, all our pleasures! For, my lovely keeper of the casket, the reputation of your probity is established particularly upon the fact that you have resisted lovers, who would willingly have made free with the money of their friends. Confess all your passions to make your virtues of greater worth; however, you do not expose but the one-half of your character; there is nothing better than what regards your friends, nothing more unsatisfactory than what you have bestowed upon your lovers. In a few verses, I will draw your entire character. Here they are, giving you the qualities you now have and those you have had: Dans vos amours on vous trouvait legère, En amitié toujours sûre et sincère; Pour vos amants, les humeurs de Vénus, Pour vos amis les solides vertus: Quand les premiers vous nommaient infidèle, Et qu'asservis encore à votre loi, Ils reprochaient une flamme nouvelle, Les autres se louaient de votre bonne foi. Tantôt c'était le naturel d'Hélène, Ses appétits comme tous ses appas; Tantôt c'était la probité romaine? C'était d'honneur la règle et le compas. Dans un couvent en soeur dépositaire, Vous auriez bien ménagé quelque affaire, Et dans le monde à garder les dépôts, On vous eût justement préférée aux dévots.