For heaven’s sake, let us quit those plays, since they may possibly be attended with such fatal consequences; even the most simple of them all is not without its danger. I tremble as often as our hands meet, and I know not how it happens, but they meet continually. I start the instant I feel the touch of your finger; as the play advances I am seized with a fever, or rather delirium; my senses gradually forsake me, and, in their absence, what can I say, what can I do, where hide myself, or how be answerable for my conduct? The hours of instruction are not less dangerous. Your mother, or your cousin, no sooner leave the room than I observe a change in your behaviour. You at once assume an air so serious, so cold, that my respect, and the fear of offending, destroys my presence of mind, and deprives me of my judgment: with difficulty and trembling, I babble over a lesson, which even your excellent talents are unable to pursue. This affected change in your behaviour is hurtful to us both: you confound me and deprive yourself of instruction, whilst I am entirely at a loss to account for this sudden alteration in a person naturally so even-tempered and reasonable. Tell me, pray tell me, why you are so sprightly in public, and so reserved when by ourselves? I imagined it ought to be just the contrary, and that one should be more or less upon their guard, in proportion to the number of spectators. But instead of this, when with me alone, you are ceremonious, and familiar when we join in mixed company. If you deign to be more equal, probably my torment will be less. If that compassion which is natural to elevated minds, can move you in behalf of an unfortunate youth, whom you have honoured with some share in your esteem; you have it in your power, by a small change in your conduct, to render his situation less irksome, and to enable him, with more tranquility, to support his silence and his sufferings: but if you find yourself not touched with his situation, and are determined to exert your power to ruin him, he will acquiesce without murmuring: he would rather, much rather, perish by your order, than incur your displeasure by his indiscretion. Now, though you are become mistress of my future destiny, I cannot reproach myself with having indulged the least presumptive hope. If you have been so kind as to read my letter, you have complied with all I should have dared to request, even though I had no refusal to fear. Letter II. To Eloisa. How strangely was I deceived in my first letter! instead of alleviating my pain, I have increased my distress by incurring your displeasure: and, alas! that, I find, is the least supportable of all misfortunes. Your silence, your cold, and reserved behaviour, but too plainly indicate my doom. You have indeed granted one part of my petition, but it was to punish me with the greater severity. _E poi ch’ amor di me vi fece accorta Fur i biondi capelli allor velati, E l’amorosi sguardo in se raccolto._