my own self what I designed to conceal from you all my life, I will acknowledge to you, that you have inspired me with sentiments I was unacquainted with before I saw you, and of which I had so slender an idea, that they gave me at first a surprize which still added to the pain that constantly attends them: I am the less ashamed to make you this confession, because I do it at a time when I may do it without a crime, and because you have seen that my conduct has not been governed by my affections.
Can you believe, madam, said monsieur de Nemours, falling on his knees, but I shall expire at your feet with joy and transport?—I have told you nothing, said she, smiling, but what you knew too well before.—Ah! madam, said he, what a difference is there between learning it by chance, and knowing it from yourself, and seeing that you are pleased I know it!—It is true, answered she, I would have you know it, and I find a pleasure in telling it you; I do not even know if I do not tell it you more for my own sake, than for yours; for, after all, this confession will have no consequences, and I shall follow the austere rules which my duty imposes upon me.—How, madam! you are not of this opinion, replied monsieur de Nemours; you are no longer under any obligation of duty; you are at liberty; and if I durst, I should even tell you, that it is in your power to act so, that your duty shall one day oblige you to preserve the sentiments you have for me.—My duty, replied she, forbids me to think of any man, but of you the last in the world, and for reasons which are unknown to you.—Those reasons, perhaps, are not unknown to me, answered he, but they are far from being good ones. I believe that monsieur de Cleves thought me happier than I was, and imagined that you approved of those extravagancies which my passion led me into without your approbation.—Let us talk no more of that adventure, said she; I cannot bear the thought of it, and the consequences of
