“You have laid down a law which it will be hard for me to keep—to be all day long without seeing you, but, since you wish it, I must obey. I hope, however, that you will let me wait on you in your apartments this evening. If you cannot manage this, will you meet me to-night at my house? Let me know your decision. Should you decide on the latter course, you will find no one at my place; the door will be open, so come in boldly and without fear. I am dying of impatience to see you. Answer me soon that I may know what to do. Farewell, dear heart.” “Nothing could have comforted me more in my sickness than your sweet letter, I find it full of tenderness. I am sorry you have found the time so tedious. I suffer from the same misfortune, and have no chance of being happier to-day unless you wish to play. If my fever be not too great, I will pass under your windows in the hope of seeing you. You will not refuse me this grace; you know the sight of you will be a soothing balm in my sickness; a visit from you would be an infallible remedy. You speak to me of _passion_. Alas! it is for me to speak of it—mine is so great that it will consume me utterly at last. Oh! my dear, my dear! do you think that you love with as much passion as I love?... It is cruelly hard for me not to be with you always—I am compelled to keep away from you, God knows with what grief. The Count de Reuss[73] prevents me from ending my letter as I would.” “Of a truth I was ill pleased with the cold airs you treated me to yesterday, and I spent the night most miserably. I was in great sorrow and fain to weep, and all these emotions made me very feverish for nearly three hours. I vow, my divine beauty, that I never remember being in such a pitiful plight before. ‘Alas! alas!’ I cried, ‘God burns me with sickness, and gives me no comfort, for He freezes the heart of my divinity, and life is intolerable.’ I threw myself on my knees, tears in my eyes, and prayed that, if it were true that you loved me no longer, I might die.... I cannot tell you, therefore, the joy your letter gave me. I kissed it time and again. I hate myself for having thought you guilty of inconstancy; I cast myself at your feet, praying pardon, and I promise never to be so ready to believe things again.