I leave it to the consideration of the reader, if this vision is not a faithful image of profane love: this is the beauty that seduces us; this is the time we improve; this is the passion which governs us; this is the jealousy which torments us; this is the hour of temptation: a rendezvous, a private conversation, a walk. This is that violent motion which leads to crime. I leave also to the reader, to make his own reflections upon the occupations of lovers, upon their desire of pleasure, upon their intrigues, upon their pains. I am persuaded that no one can have an idea upon the subject, without disapproving of the wanderings of love. It is not reason which rules in the palace I have traversed: for reason is an enemy whom they attack, whom they disarm, whom they put far from them, although she is but a kind friend, who never takes up arms but to succour us. FIFTH NIGHT. THE WORLD. IF a man of genius, or one only of ordinary discernment, could view the interior of the world, he would feel indignant at himself even for living with so much degradation; he could not prevent himself from pitying or despising those who are attached to it, and who allow themselves to be deceived by its seductions and artifices. There is hardly a person who speaks as he thinks; one never sees the intention of the actor; honesty and knavery have often an air of resemblance; truth and hypocrisy appear like sisters of the same father; civility and curiosity assume the same colours; friendship and interest are with difficulty distinguished.