In short, what can I say to you ? The excess of my in-
consistency bewilders my mind, the weight of life is crushing
my soul. What must I do ? What will become of me ?
Wni it be Charenton or the grave which will deliver me
from myself ? I make you a victim if you care enough for
me to take part in what I suffer, and I regret it ; but if I
have caused you only ennui, I shall sink with confusion.
Do not think you can hide this from me, whatever effort
you may make to do so ; you cannot deceive my interest —
But gratify it by telling me how you are ; have you had as
much pleasure as you hoped, or less ? Is your health better
than during the last days you were here ? You are very
modest, you never told me how you were celebrated at
Strasburg; verses were made in your honour; they were
very bad, it is true, but the intention was so good ! Do not
be angry.
Tell me, have you read " Le Conn^table " on your journey [tragedy in rhyme by M. de Guibert], not while posting, but aloud in good society ? Apropos of the " Conn^table," if you had a certain sensibility, if you were like Montaigne and regarded me like another La B^otie, how I should pity you for deny- ing yourself the pleasure of giving me a mark of confidence, esteem, and affection ! I do not boast of myself, but I assure you I should be torn by remorse if I had treated you in that way. What does that prove ? — tell me. Adieu ; I know all the difference in our affections ; teach me the resemblance ; that game [then in vogue] will never have been played with so much interest.
Sunday, June 20, 1773.
Oh ! mon Dieu ! are you dead, or have you already forgotten how keen and sorrowful is the remembrance of you in the souls you have left ? Not a word from you since May 24th ! It is very difficult not to believe it is a little
