"No, cruel one," he said, "you will forget and betray me. I know your
heart, it alarms me, crushes me. It is still faithful to my love, I
know, and I believe you are not deceiving me at this moment. But that
is because I am with you and can personally talk of my love. Who will
recall it to you when I am gone? The love you inspire in others,
Ninon, is very different from the love you feel. You will always be in
my heart, and absence will be to me a new fire to consume me; but to
you, absence is the end of affection. Every object I shall imagine I
see around you will be odious to me, but to you they will be
interesting."
Ninon could not deny that there was truth in the Marquis' logic, but
she was too tender to assassinate his heart which she knew to be so
loving. Being a woman she understood perfectly the art of
dissimulation, which is a necessary accomplishment, a thousand
circumstances requiring its exercise for the sake of her security,
peace, and comfort. Moreover, she did not at the moment dream of
deceiving him; there was no present occasion, nobody else she had in
mind.
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