ble charms for this intrusion upon you. I am forced by
their radiance to emerge from the deep shadow in which I should remain
shrouded, and approach their dazzling brilliancy--just as the dolphins
are attracted from the depths of ocean, by the brightness of the
fisherman's lanterns, though they are, alas! to find destruction there,
and perish by the sharp harpoons hurled pitilessly at them with unerring
aim. I know but too well that the waves will be reddened by my blood;
but as I cannot live without your favour, I do not fear to meet death
thus. It may be strangely audacious, on my part to pretend to the
privileges of gods and demi-gods--to die by your fair hand--but I dare
to aspire to it; being already in despair, nothing worse can come to me,
and I would rather incur your wrath than your scorn, or your disdain.
In order to direct the fatal blow aright, the executioner must look upon
his victim, and I shall have, in yielding up my life under your fair,
cruel hand, the supreme delight of being for one blissful moment the
object of your regard. Yes, I love you, madame! I adore you! And if it
be a crime, I cannot repent of it. God suffers himself to be adored; the
stars receive the admiration of the humblest shepherd; it is the fate
of all such lofty perfection as yours to, be beloved, adored, only by
inferior beings, since it has not its equal upon earth, nor scarcely
indeed in heaven. I, alas! am but a poor, wandering actor, yet were I
a haughty duke or prince, my head would not be on a level with your
beauteous feet, and there would be, all the same, between your heavenly
height and my kneeling adoration, as great a distance as from the
soaring summit of the loftiest Alp to the yawning abyss far, far below.
You must always stoop to reach a heart that adores you. I dare to say,
madame, that mine is as proud as it is tender, and she who would deign
not to repulse it, would find in it the most ardent love, the most
perfect delicacy, the most absolute respect, and unbounded devotion.
Besides, if such divine happiness be accorded me, your indulgence
would not have to stoop so low as you might fancy. Though reduced by an
adverse destiny and the jealous hatred of one of the great ones of the
earth, who must be nameless, to the dire necessity of hiding myself
under this disguise, I am not what I seem. I do not need to blush for
my birth--rather I may glory in it. If I dared to betray the secrecy
imposed upon me, for reasons of