. I can endure anything
from you. I am powerless to escape of my own accord.

FROM JULIE

I must, then, reveal my secret! I have striven to resist, but I am
powerless. Everything seems to magnify my love for you; all nature seems
to be your accomplice; every effort that I make is in vain. I adore you
in spite of myself.

I hope and I believe that a heart which has seemed to me to deserve the
whole attachment of mine will not belie the generosity that I expect of
it; and I hope, also that if you should prove unworthy of the devotion I
feel for you, my indignation and contempt will restore to me the reason
that my love has caused me to lose.

TO JULIE

Oh, how am I to realise the torrent of delights that pours into my
heart? And how can I best reassure the alarms of a timid and loving
woman? Pure and heavenly beauty, judge more truly, I beseech you, of the
nature of your power. Believe me, if I adore your loveliness, it is
because of the spotless soul of which that loveliness is the outward
token. When I cease to love virtue, I shall cease to love you, and I
shall no longer ask you to love me.

FROM JULIE

My friend, I feel that every day I become more attached to you; the
smallest absence from you is insupportable; and when you are not with me
I must needs write you, so that I may occupy myself with you
unceasingly.

My mind is troubled with news that my father has just told me. He is
expecting a visit from his old friend, M. de Wolmar; and it is to M. de
Wolmar, I suspect, that he designs that I should be married. I cannot
marry without the approval of those who gave me life; and you know what
the fury of my father would be if I were to confess my love for you--for
he would assuredly not suffer me to be united to one whom he deems my
inferior in that mere worldly rank for which I care nothing. Yet I
cannot marry a man I do not love; and you are the only man I shall ever
love.

It pains me that I must not reveal our secret to my dear mother, who
esteems you so highly; but would she not reveal it, from a sense of
duty, to my father? It is best that only my inseparable Cousin Claire
should know the truth.

FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE

I have bad news for you, my dear cousin. First of all, your love affair
is being gossipped about; secondly, this gossip has indirectly brought
your lover into serious danger.

You have met my lord Edouard Bomston, the young English noble who is now
staying at Vevay. Your lo