not know if it is the best, but it is the most agreeable to me.
Is not such praise insipid ? Do not laugh at me ; I am very
silly, but I do assure you I am a good soul — am I not ?
Sunday evening, August 1, 1773.
You are too good ; you surprise me with kindness. It is delightful to have a pleasure on which we did not count, and I am charmed to owe you an emotion which has done good to my soul. I received yesterday a letter from you dated the 18th; I was much pleased to see that your dates are getting closer ; you no longer put fifteen days' interval between them ; and I do not owe this change to the regrets I expressed to you, but to you yourself, to your friendship : I like far better that which it gives me than that which I obtain myself. I wanted to thank you, to tell you feebly that which I feel so keenly, and now I am made more happy still, — I have received to- day another letter from you !
My first emotion (I know not why) was fear ; the habit of ill-fortune spoils all things. But I was soon reassured. I found you kind, full of feeling, close to my soul. It seemed to me I ought to be glad for having suffered, as my suffering was of interest to you. Oh ! with how many regrets you fill my life ! I might enjoy your friendship; it might be my consolation, it might be my pleasure, but you are a thousand leagues away ! I cannot escape the fear that so many new objects, a life so filled and occupied as that you are forced to lead, may destroy, or at least weaken a tie and an interest to which there is lacking, perhaps, that degree of warmth which makes it a need of the heart, or, at any rate, a habit. I admit that I set but little value on that last tie, which is the sentiment of those who have none ; but see the baneful disposition of my soul : I fill myself with fears, regrets, when I ought to enjoy these testimonies and proofs of
