ere he had left him in the evening.
The Duke resolved to stay there all the day, in order to return at
night to Colomiers, to see if Madam de Cleves would yet have the
cruelty to shun him or not expose herself to view: though he was very
much pleased to find himself so much in her thoughts, yet was he
extremely grieved at the same time to see her so naturally bent to
avoid him.

Never was passion so tender and so violent as that of Monsieur de
Nemours; he walked under the willows, along a little brook which ran
behind the house, where he lay concealed; he kept himself as much out
of the way as possible, that he might not be seen by anybody; he
abandoned himself to the transports of his love, and his heart was so
full of tenderness, that he was forced to let fall some tears, but
those tears were such as grief alone could not shed; they had a mixture
of sweetness and pleasure in them which is to be found only in love.

He set himself to recall to mind all the actions of Madam de Cleves
ever since he had been in love with her; her cruelty and rigour, and
that modesty and decency of behaviour she had always observed towards
him, though she loved him; "For, after all, she loves me," said he,
"she loves me, I cannot doubt of it, the deepest engagements and the
greatest favours are not more certain proofs than those I have had. In
the meantime, I am treated with the same rigour as if I were hated; I
hoped something from time, but I have no reason to expect it any
longer; I see her always equally on her guard against me and against
herself; if I were not loved, I should make it my business to please;
but I do please; she loves me, and tries to hide it from me. What have
I then to hope, and what change am I to expect in my fortune? though I
am loved by the most amiable person in the world, I am under that
excess of passion which proceeds from the first certainty of being
loved by her, only to make me more sensible of being ill used; let me
see that you love me, fair Princess," cried he, "make me acquainted
with your sentiments; provided I know them once in my life from you, I
am content that you resume for ever the cruelties with which you
oppress me; look upon me at least with the same eyes with which I saw
you look that night upon my picture; could you behold that with such
sweet complacency, and yet avoid me with so much cruelty? What are you
afraid of? Why does my love appear so terrible to you? You love me,
and you e