coming proved
fallacious, and our hopes were at length dismissed. His absence affected
my friends in no insupportable degree. They should be obliged, they
said, to defer this undertaking till the morrow; and, perhaps, their
impatient curiosity would compel them to dispense entirely with his
presence. No doubt, some harmless occurrence had diverted him from
his purpose; and they trusted that they should receive a satisfactory
account of him in the morning.

It may be supposed that this disappointment affected me in a very
different manner. I turned aside my head to conceal my tears. I fled
into solitude, to give vent to my reproaches, without interruption
or restraint. My heart was ready to burst with indignation and grief.
Pleyel was not the only object of my keen but unjust upbraiding. Deeply
did I execrate my own folly. Thus fallen into ruins was the gay fabric
which I had reared! Thus had my golden vision melted into air!

How fondly did I dream that Pleyel was a lover! If he were, would he
have suffered any obstacle to hinder his coming? Blind and infatuated
man! I exclaimed. Thou sportest with happiness. The good that is
offered thee, thou hast the insolence and folly to refuse. Well, I will
henceforth intrust my felicity to no one's keeping but my own.

The first agonies of this disappointment would not allow me to be
reasonable or just. Every ground on which I had built the persuasion
that Pleyel was not unimpressed in my favor, appeared to vanish. It
seemed as if I had been misled into this opinion, by the most palpable
illusions.

I made some trifling excuse, and returned, much earlier than I expected,
to my own house. I retired early to my chamber, without designing to
sleep. I placed myself at a window, and gave the reins to reflection.

The hateful and degrading impulses which had lately controuled me were,
in some degree, removed. New dejection succeeded, but was now produced
by contemplating my late behaviour. Surely that passion is worthy to
be abhorred which obscures our understanding, and urges us to the
commission of injustice. What right had I to expect his attendance?
Had I not demeaned myself like one indifferent to his happiness, and as
having bestowed my regards upon another? His absence might be prompted
by the love which I considered his absence as a proof that he wanted.
He came not because the sight of me, the spectacle of my coldness or
aversion, contributed to his despair. Why should I