er he may not now and then tease her with some little
jealousies, as I know that in his place I should not be entirely free
from such feelings.

_August 8_. I am amazed to see from my diary, which I have somewhat
neglected of late, how deliberately I have entangled myself, step by
step. But even though I see the result plainly, I have no thought of
acting with any greater prudence. And yet I feel that if only I knew
where to go, I would abandon everything and fly from this place.

And yet I feel that, if I were not a fool, I could enjoy life here most
delightfully. Admitted into this charming family, loved by the father as
a son, by his children as a second father, and by Charlotte!
Furthermore, Albert welcomes me with the heartiest affection, and loves
me, next to Charlotte, more than all the world.

_August 21_. In vain do I stretch out my arms towards her when I wake in
the morning. In vain do I seek for her when some innocent dream has
happily deceived me, and placed me near her in the fields when I have
seized her hand and covered it with kisses. Tears flow from my oppressed
heart; and, bereft of all comfort, I weep over my future woes.

_August 28_. This is my birthday, and early in the morning I received a
packet from Albert. I found within one of the pink ribbons which
Charlotte wore in her dress the first time I saw her, and which I had
often asked her to give me. With it were two volumes of Wetstein's
Homer, a book I had often wished for. How well they understood those
little attentions of friendship, so superior to costly presents, unhappy
being that I am. Why do I thus deceive myself? What is to be the outcome
of all this wild, aimless, endless passion? I cannot pray except to her.
Oh, Wilhelm, the hermit's cell, his sackcloth and girdle of thorns,
would be luxury and indulgence compared with what I have to suffer.

_October 20_. I have taken the plunge, and following your repeated
advice, I have taken a post with the ambassador. We arrived here
yesterday. If he were less peevish and morose all would be well. As it
is, he occasions me continual annoyance; he is the most punctilious
blockhead in the world. He does everything step by step, with the paltry
fussiness of an old woman; and he is a man whom it is impossible to
please, because he is never pleased with himself.

_January 20_. I have but one being here to interest me, my dear
Charlotte--a Miss B----. She resembles you, if indeed anyone can
possi