confidence that is found, not in the heart, but in a vanity that
exacts from those we love, and sometimes dares to put them
to the proof. Intercourse with the world has not altered the
simplicity and truth of my sentiments. Eemark that I am
not praising, but defending myself.
I am sorry and uneasy about the pain in your leg ; you do not take care of it, though you say you do; and I am more uneasy at that than for the pain itself. Alas ! the great evil of absence is ignorance of the details that touch us closely. While saying much, still more is left unsaid ; and it seems to me that my friend always omits that which I most need to know. Why do you wear yourself out with fatigue ? The loss of sleep exhausts the brain, and, strong as you may be, I am certain that by sitting up all night you do not get the best of the things and objects you are seeking to observe — not to speak of the risk you run of weakening your health. To reach the object for which you aim, you must not only live, but keep well ; in exalting the soul to the point of sacrificing all to its love of glory, I believe it is well to preserve the stomach. Ah ! if you knew how physi- cal sufferings belittle the soul you would not squander as you do your sleep and your strength. I am speaking a very trivial language to you, but it is that of friendship. Eemark that those who wish to please never say a word of all this. The tone of interest has no grace, it is ponderous, it repeats itself — but it does not weary those who feel it for one who deserves it so well. .
I cannot help thinking that the uneasiness in which you were when you wrote to me disturbed your judgment a little. You urged me to write to you without telling me where to address my letter. I know that you were not in Vienna after the 12th at the latest, yet I must send my letter there ; there is no sense in that. And another thing, equally sense-
