Do not blush, my dear girl, nor drop thy eyes, nor look grave; thy features will not suffer it. Thou knowest I never, in my life, could weep without laughing, and yet I have not less sensibility than other people: I do not feel our separation less severely, nor am less afflicted with the loss of poor Chaillot. Her family I am resolved never to abandon, and I sincerely thank my kind friend for her promise to assist me: but to let slip an opportunity of doing good, were to be no more thyself. I confess the good creature was rather too talkative, free enough on certain occasions, a little indiscreet with young girls, and that she was fond of old stories and times past. So that I do not so much regret the qualities of her mind, though among some bad ones, many of them were excellent: the loss which I chiefly deplore is the goodness of her heart, and that mixture of maternal and sisterly affection, which made her inexpressibly dear to me. My mother I scarce knew; I am indeed loved by my father, as much as is possible for him to love; your amiable brother is no more; and I very seldom see my own. Thus am I left desolate, like an orphan. You are my only consolation. Yes, my Eloisa lives, and I will weep no more! P. S. For fear of accident, I shall direct this letter to our preceptor. Letter VIII. [6] To Eloisa. O, my fair Eloisa, what a strange capricious deity is Love! My present felicity seems far to exceed my most sanguine expectations, and yet I am discontented. You love me, you confess your passion, and yet I sigh. My presumptuous heart dares to wish still farther, though all my wishes are gratified. I am punished with its wild imaginations; they render me unhappy in the very bosom of felicity. Do not, however, believe that I have forgotten the laws you have imposed, or lost the power of obedience: no, but I am displeased to find the observance of those laws irksome to me alone; that you, who not long ago, was all imbecility, are now become so great a heroine; and that you are so excessively careful to prevent every proof of my integrity. How you are changed, and _you_ alone, within these two months! Where is now your languor, your disgust, your dejected look? The graces have again resumed their post; your charms are all returned; the new-blown rose is not more fresh and blooming; you have recovered your vivacity and wit; you banter, even with me, as formerly; but what hurts me more than all this, is that you swear eternal fidelity with as much gaiety and good humour as if it were something droll, or indifferent.