and material poem, the charm of which is irresistible; imagine therefore what it is when it takes its inspiration from the heart.  Politeness, dear, consists in seeming to forget ourselves for others; with many it is social cant, laid aside when personal self-interest shows its cloven-foot; a noble then becomes ignoble.  But—­and this is what I want you to practise, Felix—­true politeness involves a Christian principle; it is the flower of Love, it requires that we forget ourselves really.  In memory of your Henriette, for her sake, be not a fountain without water, have the essence and the form of true courtesy.  Never fear to be the dupe and victim of this social virtue; you will some day gather the fruit of seeds scattered apparently to the winds.

My father used to say that one of the great offences of sham politeness was the neglect of promises.  When anything is demanded of you that you cannot do, refuse positively and leave no loopholes for false hopes; on the other hand, grant at once whatever you are willing to bestow.  Your prompt refusal will make you friends as well as your prompt benefit, and your character will stand the higher; for it is hard to say whether a promise forgotten, a hope deceived does not make us more enemies than a favor granted brings us friends.

Dear friend, there are certain little matters on which I may dwell, for I know them, and it comes within my province to impart them.  Be not too confiding, nor frivolous, nor over enthusiastic, —­three rocks on which youth often strikes.  Too confiding a nature loses respect, frivolity brings contempt, and others take advantage of excessive enthusiasm.  In the first place, Felix, you will never have more than two or three friends in the course of your life.  Your entire confidence is their right; to give it to many is to betray your real friends.  If you are more intimate with some men than with others keep guard over yourself; be as cautious as though you knew they would one day be your rivals, or your enemies; the chances and changes of life require this.  Maintain an attitude which is neither cold nor hot; find the medium point at which a man can safely hold intercourse with others without compromising himself.  Yes, believe me, the honest man is as far from the base cowardice of Philinte as he is from the harsh virtue of Alceste.  The genius of the poet is displayed in the mind of this true medium; certainly all minds do enjoy more the ridicule of virtue than the sovereign contempt of easy-going selfishness which underlies that picture of it; but all, nevertheless, are prompted to keep themselves from either extreme.

As to frivolity, if it causes fools to proclaim you a charming man, others who are accustomed to judge of men’s capacities and fathom character, will winnow out your tare and bring you to disrepute, for frivolity is the resource of weak natures, and weakness is soon appraised in a society which regards