d happened, but I did not foresee the consequences.

I hesitated a long time on the manner in which I should conduct myself
towards her, as if real love left behind it sufficient reason to
deliberate and act accordingly. I had not yet determined upon this when
she unexpectedly returned and found me unprovided. It was this time,
perfectly acquainted with my situation, shame, the companion of evil,
rendered me dumb, and made me tremble in her presence; I neither dared to
open my mouth or raise my eyes; I was in an inexpressible confusion which
it was impossible she should not perceive. I resolved to confess to her
my troubled state of mind, and left her to guess the cause whence it
proceeded: this was telling her in terms sufficiently clear.

Had I been young and amiable, and Madam d' Houdetot, afterwards weak,
I should here blame her conduct; but this was not the case, and I am
obliged to applaud and admire it. The resolution she took was equally
prudent and generous. She could not suddenly break with me without
giving her reasons for it to Saint Lambert, who himself had desired her
to come and see me; this would have exposed two friends to a rupture,
and perhaps a public one, which she wished to avoid. She had for me
esteem and good wishes; she pitied my folly without encouraging it,
and endeavored to restore me to reason. She was glad to preserve to her
lover and herself a friend for whom she had some respect; and she spoke
of nothing with more pleasure than the intimate and agreeable society we
might form between us three the moment I should become reasonable.
She did not always confine herself to these friendly exhortations, and,
in case of need, did not spare me more severe reproaches, which I had
richly deserved.

I spared myself still less: the moment I was alone I began to recover;
I was more calm after my declaration--love, known to the person by whom
it is inspired, becomes more supportable.

The forcible manner in which I approached myself with mine, ought to have
cured me of it had the thing been possible. What powerful motives did I
not call to my mind to stifle it? My morals, sentiments and principles;
the shame, the treachery and crime, of abusing what was confided to
friendship, and the ridiculousness of burning, at my age, with the most
extravagant passion for an object whose heart was preengaged, and who
could neither make me a return, nor least hope; moreover with a passion
which, far from