“Raise your eyes to that clock,” she said to him one day, “and mark the passing of time.  Rash boy, it is sixty-five years since I came into the world.  Does it become me to listen to a passion like love?  Is it possible at my age to love or be loved?  Enter within yourself, Chevalier, and see how ridiculous are your desires and those you would arouse in me.”

All Ninon’s remonstrances, however, tended only to increase the desires which burned in the young man’s breast.  His mother’s tears, which now began to flow, were regarded by the youth as trophies of success.

“What, tears?” he exclaimed, “you shed tears for me?  Are they wrung from your heart by pity, by tenderness?  Ah, am I to be blessed?”

“This is terrible,” she replied, “it is insanity.  Leave me, and do not poison the remainder of a life which I detest.”

“What language is this?” exclaimed the Chevalier.  “What poison can the sweetness of making still another one happy instill into the loveliest life?  Is this the tender and philosophic Ninon?  Has she not raised between us that shadow of virtue that makes her sex adorable?  What chimeras have changed your heart?  Shall I tell you?  You carry your cruelty to the extent of fighting against yourself, resisting your own desires.  I have seen in your eyes a hundred times less resistance than you now set against me.  And these tears which my condition has drawn from your eyes—­tell me, are they shed through indifference or hate?  Are you ashamed to avow a sensibility which honors humanity?”

“Cease, Chevalier,” said Ninon, raising her hand in protest, “the right to claim my liveliest friendship rested with you, I thought you worthy of it.  That is the cause of the friendly looks which you have mistaken for others of greater meaning, and it is also the cause of the tears I shed.  Do not flatter yourself that you have inspired me with the passion of love.  I can see too plainly that your desires are the effect of a passing presumption.  Come now, you shall know my heart, and it should destroy all hope for you.  It will go so far as to hate you, if you repeat your protestations of blind tenderness.  I do not care to understand you, leave me, to regret the favors you have so badly interpreted.”

When Ninon learned that her son was plunged into despair and fury on account of her rejection of his love, her heart was torn with sorrow and she regretted that she had not at first told him the secret of his birth, but her solemn promise to de Gersay had stood in her way.  She determined now to remedy the evil and she therefore applied to de Gersay to relieve her from her promise.  De Gersay advised her to communicate the truth to her son as soon as possible to prevent a catastrophe which he prophesied was liable to happen when least expected.  She accordingly wrote the Chevalier that at a certain time she would be at her house in the Saint Antoine suburb and prayed him to meet her there.  The impassioned Chevalier, expecting nothing less than the gratification of his desires, prepared himself with extreme care and flew to the assignation.  He was disconcerted, however, by finding Ninon despondent and sad, instead of smiling and joyful with anticipation.  However, he cast himself at her feet, seized her hand and covered it with tears and kisses.