To Mademoiselle — LETTER XXXII.
MADAM,
THe greatest pleasure I ever had in my life is that of having seen you, and the greatest torment, that of being incap∣able to see you again. May I perish, if my eies could fasten on any thing they thought pleasant since I parted from you! I have left at Blois all the enjoyments I was wont to finde here, and I am more disordered at Paris, then ever I was in any place. And yet I should be much troubled to be lesse afflicted, and am even in love with my sadnesse when I but consider that you would be satisfied with the sight of it. It is certainlie but just that so great a good fortune as that of having found you, should cost me something, nay, though I forfeited all the tranquillitie of this life, I should not think I had bought it at too deare a rate. The least reflection, or the remembrance of the most inconsi∣derable of your actions, or of but some expression of yours, findes me a satisfaction, greater then the affliction all the mis∣fortunes in the World are able to give me, and, even at the same time that I suffer, that I see you not, and am in doubt whether you love me. I would not change conditions with those who are most fortunate, who see, and who enjoy. So great resolution, where there is so much occasion of disturbance, can∣not certainlie but raise in me a serious beliefe that you dissem∣bled not, when you told me that you had bestowed your heart on me; for had I no other then my own, I were not able to hold out against so manie sorrows, and I am satisfied that I can∣not