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The Sorrows of Werter

By Johann Wolfgang Goethe


[There is no Letter 11 in this edition.]

June 19.

I Forget where I broke off my narration; I recollect nothing about it; all I know is, that it was two in the morning when I went to bed, and if I could have {41} talked to you instead of writing to you, I should certainly have kept you till daylight.

I believe I did not tell you what passed in our return from the ball, and to-day I have not time neither. There was a beautiful sun-rising; the whole country was refreshed, and the rain fell drop by drop from our trees in the forest.

Our companions were asleep: Charlotte asked me, if I did not wish to sleep too? and desired I would not make any ceremony on her account. Looking steadfastly at her, I answered, "As long as those eyes continue open, I cannot close mine." We both remained awake till we came to her door: the maid opened it softly, and answered to Charlotte's enquiries that every body was well, and still in bed. I left her, promising to see her again in the course of the day. I kept my word; and since that time, sun, moon, stars, may rise and set as they will; I know not whether {42} it is day, or whether it is night; the whole world is now nothing to me.