“No doubt if love precedes it accompanies, but I do not think it necessarily follows, enjoyment.”
“True, it often makes love to cease.”
“She is a selfish daughter, then, to kill her father; and if after enjoyment love still continue in the heart of one, it is worse than murder, for the party in which love still survives must needs be wretched.”
“You are right; and from your strictly logical arguments I conjecture that you would have the senses kept in subjection: that is too hard!”
“I would have nothing to do with that Platonic affection devoid of love, but I leave you to guess what my maxim would be.”
“To love and enjoy; to enjoy and love. Turn and turn about.”
“You have hit the mark.”
With this Leonilda burst out laughing, and the duke kissed her hand. Her governess, not understanding French, was attending to the opera, but I was in flames.
Leonilda was only seventeen, and was as pretty a girl as the heart could desire.
The duke repeated a lively epigram of Lafontaine’s on “Enjoyment,” which is only found in the first edition of his works. It begins as follows:—