your friendship. It is so sweet, so indulgent — that friend-
ship ; you forgive me all my injustice ; I have blamed you
a thousand times, but I have never repented giving myself
up to you in the closest confidence. With you it is impos-
sible to feel one's self mistaken, and thus one is sheltered
from great evils ; for remark that all tragedies are founded on
misunderstandings, and that almost all misfortunes have the
same cause. But do not punish me for having been unjust by
no longer telling me of that which interests you. Tell me all
you feel and experience and I promise to share it, and to tell
you the impression it makes upon me. I love you too well
to impose the least restraint upon myself ; I prefer to have to
ask your pardon rather than commit no faults. I have no self-
love with you ; I do not comprehend those rules of conduct
that make us so content with self and so cold to those we
love. I detest prudence, I even hate (suffer me to say so)
those "duties of friendship " which substitute propriety for
interest, and circumspection for feeling. How shall I say it ?
I love the abandonment to impulse, I act from impulse only,
and I love to madness that others do the same by me.
Ah ! mon Dieu ! how far I am from being equal to you ! I have not your virtues, I know no duties with my friend ; I am closer to the state of nature ; savages do not love with more simplicity and good faith. The world, misfortunes, evils, nothing has corrupted my heart. I shall never be on my guard against you ; I shall never suspect you. You say that you have friendship for me ; you are virtuous ; what can I fear ? I will let you see the trouble, the agitation of my soul, and I shall not blush to seem to you weak and incon- sistent. I have already told you that I do not seek to please you ; I do not wish to usurp your esteem. I prefer to de- serve your indulgence — in short, I want to love you with all my heart and to place in you a confidence without reserve.
