How greatly am I indebted to dear Mrs. Belon for the pleasure she procured me! Forgive me, my dearest Eloisa, when I tell you, that I even dared to take some pleasure in your distress, and that your very anxiety afforded me most exquisite delight. Oh, what raptures did I feel at those stolen glances, that downcast modesty, that care with which you avoided meeting my eyes! What then, think you, was the employment of your too, too happy lover? Was he indeed converting with Mrs. Belon? Did you really think so, my lovely Eloisa? Oh, no, enchanting fair! he was much more worthily employed. With what an amazing sympathy did my heart share each emotion of thine! With what a greedy impatience did I explore the beautiful symmetry of thy person! Thy love, thy charms, entirely filled my whole soul, which was hardly able to contain the ravishing idea. The only allay to all this pleasure was, that I feasted at your expense, and felt the tender sensations which you, alas, was absolutely unable to participate. Can I tell one word that Mrs. Belon said to me? Could I have told it at the very time she was speaking? Do I know what answers I made? or did she understand me at all? But indeed how could she comprehend the discourse of one who spoke without thinking, and answered without conceiving the question. _Com’ buom, che par ch’ ascolti, e nulla intende._ I appeal to the event for a confirmation. She has since told all the world, and perhaps you among the rest, that I have not common sense; but what is still worse, not a single grain of wit, and that I am as dull and foolish as my books. But no matter how she thinks, or what she says of me. Is not Eloisa the sole mistress of my fate, and does not she alone determine my future rank and estimation? Let the rest of the world say of me what they think proper; myself, my understanding, and my accomplishments, all absolutely depend on the value you are pleased to fix on them.