But, supposing you were so unhappy as to be pleased with such immodest discourse, how could you prevail on yourself to make sure of it so indifferently, and address her who was so dear to you, in a manner in which a virtuous man certainly ought to be ignorant? Since when is it become delightful to afflict the object one loves? and how barbarous is that pleasure which delights in tormenting others? I have not forgotten that I have forfeited the right I had to be respected: but if I should ever forget it, is it you that ought to remind of it? Does it belong to the author of my crime to aggravate my punishment? Ought he not rather to administer comfort? All the world may have reason to despise me, but you have none. It is to you I owe the mortifying situation to which I am reduced; and surely the tears I have shed for my weakness call upon you to alleviate my sorrow, I am neither nice nor prudish. Alas, I am but too far from it; I have not been even discreet. You know too well, ungrateful as you are, that my susceptible heart can refuse nothing to love. But, whatever I may yield to love, I will make no concessions to any thing else; and you have instructed me too well in its language to be able to substitute one so different in its room. No terms of abuse, not even blows could have insulted me more than such demonstrations of kindness. Either renounce Eloisa, or continue to merit her esteem. I have already told you I know no love without modesty; and, how much soever it may cost me to give up yours, it will cost me still more to keep it at so dear a price. I have yet much to say on this subject; but I must here close my letter, and defer it to another opportunity. In the mean time, pray observe one effect of your mistaken maxims regarding the immoderate use of wine. I am very sensible your heart is not to blame; but you have deeply wounded mine; and, without knowing what you did, afflicted a mind too easily alarmed, and to which nothing is indifferent that comes from you. Letter LI.