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LETTER LXX
November 24.
CHARLOTTE is sensible of my sufferings. I found her alone,
and was silent: she looked stedfastly at me: the fire of genius,
the charms of beauty were fled. But I saw in her countenance an
expression much more touching: -- the expression of soft pity,
and the tenderest concern. -- Why was I withheld from throwing
myself at her feet? Why did I not dare to take her in my arms,
and answer her by a thousand kisses? -- She had recourse to her
harpsichord, and in a low and sweet voice accompanied it with
melodious sounds. Her lips never appeared so lovely; they seemed
but just to open to receive the notes of the instrument, and
return half the vibration. -- But who could express such
sensations! I was soon overcome, and, bending down, I pronounced
this vow: "Beautiful lips, which celes- {166} tial spirits guard,
never will I seek to profane you." And yet I wish -- oh! my
friend, 'tis like drawing a curtain before my heart -- only to
taste this felicity, and die and expiate my crimes. -- My crimes!
