Fontanges. Oh, yes! you may. I told him I was almost sure I should be ashamed of confessing such naughty things to a person of high rank, who writes like an angel.
Bossuet. The observation was inspired, mademoiselle, by your goodness and modesty.
Fontanges. You are so agreeable a man, monseigneur, I will confess to you, directly, if you like.
Bossuet. Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young lady?
Fontanges. What is that?
Bossuet. Do you hate sin?
Fontanges. Very much.
Bossuet. Are you resolved to leave it off?
Fontanges. I have left it off entirely since the king began to love me. I have never said a spiteful word of anybody since.
Bossuet. In your opinion, mademoiselle, are there no other sins than malice?