y towards us in the bestowal of
their gifts.

"My letters grieved her deeper and deeper, as she showed by her
replies. Thence it was that I could not but wish myself once more able
to obtain a _tete-a-tete_ with her in some evening hour, such as I had
formerly enjoyed over and over again. By bribery, entreaty, and
humiliation, I succeeded.

"But, oh, Heavens! how different was this Juliet from her who once had
so enraptured and inspired me. With her grief, her mortified feelings
and her offended pride she resembled a raving Bacchante. On
approaching her, I said to myself: 'To this state then has my love,
vanity, and eloquence, reduced her! Oh! ye men, who, by your power,
are able to elevate these tender beings to angels, or change them to
wild furies!' But these reflections came too late. If her letters
were violent, her words were raging. Nothing in the whole world she
desired, except my love. She cared for nothing; every thing seemed
right and desirable,--flight into the open world, sacrifice of station,
mortification of her father and family. I was terrified at this
distraction, that seemed to fear and dread nothing. The more
persuasive my manner, and the more desirous I was to convince her of
the unavoidable necessity of submitting, the more furious in words and
gestures she became. She would fly with me immediately. I felt it
required nothing more than to express the wish, and she would have
surrendered herself, in this distraction, totally and unconditionally.
I was wretched from my inmost heart, indeed, all my energies were
annihilated.

"I learned that the prince had only spoken to her in hints; the truth
was known to her only from our correspondence. She blamed me, her
father, and fate, and only became calm after a flood of tears. I was
obliged to promise to see her again in a few days in order to discuss
the means of her flight. Thus my feelings were so changed that I
feared this once adored Juliet, and, indeed, could not help despising
her. And yet she was the same, and only the unhappy passion that I had
infused from my heart into hers had rendered her thus infatuated, I
trembled again to see her. I was at a loss what to say, what pretext
for delay, or what excuses to invent. Thus some weeks passed, during
which we only exchanged letters. To conclude, I saw her again. She
seemed ill, but still in that excitement which would not listen to
reason. She had provided a carriage, packed u