hat passed in it, did not long leave her
ignorant of my suspicions; she endeavored to laugh at them, but this
expedient did not succeed; transports of rage would have been the
consequence, and she changed her tone. Her compassionate gentleness was
invincible; she made me reproaches, which penetrated my heart; she
expressed an inquietude at my unjust fears, of which I took advantage.
I required proofs of her being in earnest. She perceived there was no
other means of relieving me from my apprehensions. I became pressing:
the step was delicate. It is astonishing, and perhaps without example,
that a woman having suffered herself to be brought to hesitate should
have got herself off so well. She refused me nothing the most tender
friendship could grant; yet she granted me nothing that rendered her
unfaithful, and I had the mortification to see that the disorder into
which the most trifling favors had thrown all my senses had not the least
effect upon hers.

I have somewhere said, that nothing should be granted to the senses, when
we wished to refuse them anything. To prove how false this maxim was
relative to Madam d' Houdetot, and how far she was right to depend upon
her own strength of mind, it would be necessary to enter into the detail
of our long and frequent conversations, and follow them, in all their
liveliness during the four months we passed together in an intimacy
almost without example between two friends of different sexes who contain
themselves within the bounds which we never exceeded. Ah! if I had lived
so long without feeling the power of real love, my heart and senses
abundantly paid the arrears. What, therefore, are the transports we feel
with the object of our affections by whom we are beloved, since the
passions of which my idol did not partake inspired such as I felt?

But I am wrong in saying Madam Houdetot did not partake of the passion of
love; that which I felt was in some measure confined to myself; yet love
was equal on both sides, but not reciprocal. We were both intoxicated
with the passion, she for her lover, and I for herself; our sighs and
delicious tears were mingled together. Tender confidants of the secrets
of each other, there was so great a similarity in our sentiments that it
was impossible they should not find some common point of union. In the
midst of this delicious intoxication, she never forgot herself for a
moment, and I solemnly protest that, if ever, led away by my s