Felipe's happiness consists in feeling himself mine;the aloofness of his love,his strict obedience,irritate me,just as his attitude of profound respect provoked me when he was only my Spanish master.I am tempted to cry out to him as he passes,"Fool,if you love me so much as a picture,what will it be when you know the real me?"Oh!Renee,you burn my letters,don't you?I will burn yours.If other eyes than ours were to read these thoughts which pass from heart to heart,I should send Felipe to put them out,and perhaps to kill the owners,by way of additional security.
Monday.
Oh!Renee,how is it possible to fathom the heart of man?My father ought to introduce me to M.Bonald,since he is so learned;I would ask him.I envy the privilege of God,who can read the undercurrents of the heart.
Does he still worship?That is the whole question.
If ever,in gesture,glance,or tone,I were to detect the slightest falling off in the respect he used to show me in the days when he was my instructor in Spanish,I feel that I should have strength to put the whole thing from me."Why these fine words,these grand resolutions?"you will say.Dear,I will tell you.