Hence they swear with the best
faith in the world to love us always; and to cast a doubt upon their
sincerity would be inflicting a mortal injury.
But the poor fellows make more promises than they can keep. They do
not perceive that their heart has not enough energy always to hold the
same object. They cease to love without knowing why. They are good
enough to be scrupulous over their growing coldness. Long after love
has fled they continue to insist that they still love. They exert
themselves to no purpose, and after having tormented themselves as
long as they can bear it, they surrender to dissatisfaction, and
become inconstant with as much good faith as they possessed when they
protested that they would be forever constant. Nothing is simpler and
easier to explain. The fermentation of a budding love, excited in
their heart the charm that seduced them; by and by, the enchantment is
dispelled, and nonchalance follows. With what can they be charged?
They counted upon keeping their vows. Dear me, how many women are too
happy with what is lacking, since men give them a free rein to their
lightness!
However this may be, the Countess has charged up to you the
inconstancy of your equals; she apprehends that you are no better than
all other lovers.
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