tell me ; how recover calmness ? I know not where to look
for strength to resist impressions so deep and so diverse.
Oh ! how many times we die before death ! All things dis-
tress and injure me ; yet the liberty to deliver myself from
the bm-den that is crushing me is taken from me. Laden
with sorrow, there is one who wishes me to live ; I am torn
both ways — by despair, and by the pity that another makes
me feel.
Ah ! my God ! can it be that to love, to be loved, is not a good ? I suffer every pain, and, more than that, I trouble the repose, I make the unhappiness, of the one I love. My soul is exhausted by sorrow ; my bodily frame is destroyed, and yet I live, and I must live. Why do you require it ? what matters my life to you ? of what value do you reckon it ? what am I to you ? Your soul is so busy, your life so full and so active, how can you find time to pity my woes ? and have you indeed enough feeling to respond to my friendship 1 Ah ! you are very amiable ; you have the tone of interest, but it seems to me it is not I who inspire it. My letters are neces- sary to you ; perhaps that is true — yes, as you say so ; but why be so long in writing to me ? and why not send your letters direct ? Strasburg delays them for two or three days.
I am enchanted (and it was thus I intended to begin my letter) that you have been satisfied with the King of Prussia. "What you tell me of that magic vapour that surrounds him is so charming, so noble, so just, that I cannot be silent about it ; I have read it to all those who deserved to hear it. Mme. Geoffrin asked me to give her a copy. I have sent it far and near, and it will be felt. So you are not going to Russia ? I am glad. Let me tell you again how charming I find your friendship ; you answer me, you converse, you are still beside me though a thousand leagues distant. But how comes it that that woman does not love you to madness, as you wish
