“Excellent,” cried Montalais; “a very masterly woman; Athenais, you will make your way in the world.” “Do you not approve of what I say?” “Completely,” replied her laughing companion. “You are not serious, Montalais?” said Louise. “Yes, yes; I approve everything Athenais has just said; only--” “Only _what?_” “Well, I cannot carry it out. I have the firmest principles; I form resolutions beside which the laws of the Stadtholder and of the King of Spain are child’s play; but when the moment arrives to put them into execution, nothing comes of them.” “Your courage fails?” said Athenais, scornfully. “Miserably so.” “Great weakness of nature,” returned Athenais. “But at least you make a choice.” “Why, no. It pleases fate to disappoint me in everything; I dream of emperors, and I find only--” “Aure, Aure!” exclaimed La Vallière, “for pity’s sake, do not, for the pleasure of saying something witty, sacrifice those who love you with such devoted affection.” “Oh, I do not trouble myself much about that; those who love me are sufficiently happy that I do not dismiss them altogether. So much the worse for myself if I have a weakness for any one, but so much the worse for others if I revenge myself upon them for it.” “You are right,” said Athenais, “and, perhaps, you too will reach the goal. In other words, young ladies, that is termed being a coquette. Men, who are very silly in most things, are particularly so in confounding, under the term of coquetry, a woman’s pride, and love of changing her sentiments as she does her dress. I, for instance, am proud; that is to say, impregnable. I treat my admirers harshly, but without any pretention to retain them. Men call me a coquette, because they are vain enough to think I care for them. Other women--Montalais, for instance--have allowed themselves to be influenced by flattery; they would be lost were it not for that most fortunate principle of instinct which urges them to change suddenly, and punish the man whose devotion they so recently accepted.” “A very learned dissertation,” said Montalais, in the tone of thorough enjoyment. “It is odious!” murmured Louise.