“Since it is impossible,” said Dagoucin, “for a man to know the whereabouts of that other half with whom there would be such perfect union that one would not differ from the other, he should remain steadfast wherever love has attached him.  And whatsoever may happen, he should change neither in heart nor in desire.  If she whom you love be the image of yourself, and there be but one will between you, it is yourself you love, and not her.”

“Dagoucin,” said Hircan, “you are falling into error.  You speak as though we should love women without being loved in return.”

“Hircan,” replied Dagoucin, “I hold that if our love be based on the beauty, grace, love, and favour of a woman, and our purpose be pleasure, honour, or profit, such love cannot long endure; for when the foundation on which it rests is gone, the love itself departs from us.  But I am firmly of opinion that he who loves with no other end or desire than to love well, will sooner yield up his soul in death than suffer his great love to leave his heart.”

“In faith,” said Simontault, “I do not believe that you have ever been in love.  If you had felt the flame like other men, you would not now be picturing to us Plato’s Republic, which may be described in writing but not be put into practice.”

“Nay, I have been in love,” said Dagoucin, “and am so still, and shall continue so as long as I live.  But I am in such fear lest the manifestation of this love should impair its perfection, that I shrink from declaring it even to her from whom I would fain have the like affection.  I dare not even think of it lest my eyes should reveal it, for the more I keep my flame secret and hidden, the more does my pleasure increase at knowing that my love is perfect.”

“For all that,” said Geburon, “I believe that you would willingly have love in return.”

“I do not deny it,” said Dagoucin, “but even were I beloved as much as I love, my love would not be increased any more than it could be lessened, were it not returned with equal warmth.”

Upon this Parlamente, who suspected this fantasy of Dagoucin’s, said—­

“Take care, Dagoucin; I have known others besides you who preferred to die rather than speak.”

“Such persons, madam;” said Dagoucin, “I deem very happy.”

“Doubtless,” said Saffredent, “and worthy of a place among the innocents of whom the Church sings: 

‘Non loquendo sed moriendo confessi sunt.’ (4)

     4 From the ritual for the Feast of the Holy Innocents.—­M.

I have heard much of such timid lovers, but I have never yet seen one die.  And since I myself have escaped death after all the troubles I have borne, I do not think that any one can die of love.”

“Ah, Saffredent!” said Dagoucin, “how do you expect to be loved since those who are of your opinion never die?  Yet have I known a goodly number who have died of no other ailment than perfect love.”