success of his lessons and entered upon a life of joyous pleasure with
as much zest as though in the bloom of his youth. It proved too much
for a constitution weakened by the fatigues of years of arduous
military campaigns and he succumbed, the flesh overpowered by the
spirit, and took to his bed, where he soon reached a condition that
left his friends no hope of his recuperation.

Aware that the end was approaching, he sent for his daughter, who
hastened to his side and shed torrents of tears. But he bade her
remember the lessons she had learned from his philosophy, and wishing
to give her one more lesson, said in an almost expiring voice:

"Approach nearer, Ninon; you see nothing left me but a sad memory of
the pleasures that are leaving me. Their possession was not of long
duration, and that is the only complaint I have to make against
nature. But, alas! my regrets are vain. You who must survive me,
utilize precious time, and have no scruples about the quantity of your
pleasures, but only of their quality."

Saying which, he immediately expired. The philosophical security
exhibited by her father in his very last moments, inspired Ninon with
the same calmness of spirit, and she bore his loss with equanimity,
disdaining to exhibit any immoderate grief lest she dishonor his
memory and render herself an unworthy daughter and pupil.

The fortune left her by her father was not so considerable as Ninon
had expected. It had been very much diminished by extravagance and
speculation, but as she had in mind de la Rochefoucauld's maxim:
"There are some good marriages, but no delicious ones," and did not
contemplate ever wearing the chains of matrimony, she deposited her