it　not　all　very　natural？　Was　there　ever　a　neighbor　that　did　not
  complain　that　unknown　feet　broke　down　his　trellises？　I　leave　it　to
  my　poet　to　answer。
  But　does　the　lofty　reasoner　after　the　fashion　of　Moliere　want
  still　better　reasons？　Well；　here　they　are。　My　dear　Geronte；
  marriages　are　usually　made　in　defiance　of　common…sense。　Parents
  make　inquiries　about　a　young　man。　If　the　Leanderwho　is　supplied
  by　some　friend；　or　caught　in　a　ball…roomis　not　a　thief；　and　has
  no　visible　rent　in　his　reputation；　if　he　has　the　necessary
  fortune；　if　he　comes　from　a　college　or　a　law…school　and　so　fulfils
  the　popular　ideas　of　education；　and　if　he　wears　his　clothes　with　a
  gentlemanly　air；　he　is　allowed　to　meet　the　young　lady；　whose
  mother　has　ordered　her　to　guard　her　tongue；　to　let　no　sign　of　her
  heart　or　soul　appear　on　her　face；　which　must　wear　the　smile　of　a
  danseuse　finishing　a　pirouette。　These　commands　are　coupled　with
  instructions　as　to　the　danger　of　revealing　her　real　character；　and
  the　additional　advice　of　not　seeming　alarmingly　well　educated。　If
  the　settlements　have　all　been　agreed　upon；　the　parents　are　good…
  natured　enough　to　let　the　pair　see　each　other　for　a　few　moments；
  they　are　allowed　to　talk　or　walk　together；　but　always　without　the
  slightest　freedom；　and　knowing　that　they　are　bound　by　rigid　rules。
  The　man　is　as　much　dressed　up　in　soul　as　he　is　in　body；　and　so　is
  the　young　girl。　This　pitiable　comedy；　mixed　with　bouquets；　jewels；
  and　theatre…parties　is　called　〃paying　your　addresses。〃　It　revolts
  me：　I　desire　that　actual　marriage　shall　be　the　result　of　a
  previous　and　long　marriage　of　souls。　A　young　girl；　a　woman；　has
  throughout　her　life　only　this　one　moment　when　reflection；　second
  sight；　and　experience　are　necessary　to　her。　She　plays　her　liberty；
  her　happiness；　and　she　is　not　allowed　to　throw　the　dice；　she　risks
  her　all；　and　is　forced　to　be　a　mere　spectator。　I　have　the　right；
  the　will；　the　power　to　make　my　own　unhappiness；　and　I　use　them；　as
  did　my　mother；　who；　won　by　beauty　and　led　by　instinct；　married　the
  most　generous；　the　most　liberal；　the　most　loving　of　men。　I　know
  that　you　are　free；　a　poet；　and　noble…looking。　Be　sure　that　I
  should　not　have　chosen　one　of　your　brothers　in　Apollo　who　was
  already　married。　If　my　mother　was　won　by　beauty；　which　is　perhaps
  the　spirit　of　form；　why　should　I　not　be　attracted　by　the　spirit
  and　the　form　united？　Shall　I　not　know　you　better　by　studying　you
  in　this　correspondence　than　I　could　through　the　vulgar　experience
  of　〃receiving　your　addresses〃？　This　is　the　question；　as　Hamlet
  says。
  But　my　proceedings；　dear　Chrysale；　have　at　least　the　merit　of　not
  binding　us　personally。　I　know　that　love　has　its　illusions；　and
  every　illusion　its　to…morrow。　That　is　why　there　are　so　many
  partings　among　lovers　vowed　to　each　other　for　life。　The　proof　of
  love　lies　in　two　things；suffering　and　happiness。　When；　after
  passing　through　these　double　trials　of　life　two　beings　have　shown
  each　other　their　defects　as　well　as　their　good　qualities；　when
  they　have　really　observed　each　other's　character；　then　they　may　go
  to　their　grave　hand　in　hand。　My　dear　Argante；　who　told　you　that
  our　little　drama　thus　begun　was　to　have　no　future？　In　any　case
  shall　we　not　have　enjoyed　the　pleasures　of　our　correspondence？
  I　await　your　orders；　monseigneur；　and　I　am　with　all　my　heart；
  Your　handmaiden；
  O。　d'Este　M。
  To　Mademoiselle　O。　d'Este　M。；You　are　a　witch；　a　spirit；　and　I
  love　you！　Is　that　what　you　desire　of　me；　most　original　of　girls？
  Perhaps　you　are　only　seeking　to　amuse　your　provincial　leisure　with
  the　follies　which　are　you　able　to　make　a　poet　commit。　If　so；　you
  have　done　a　bad　deed。　Your　two　letters　have　enough　of　the　spirit
  of　mischief　in　them　to　force　this　doubt　into　the　mind　of　a
  Parisian。　But　I　am　no　longer　master　of　myself；　my　life；　my　future
  depend　on　the　answer　you　will　make　me。　Tell　me　if　the　certainty　of
  an　unbounded　affection；　oblivious　of　all　social　conventions；　will
  touch　you；if　you　will　suffer　me　to　seek　you。　There　is　anxiety
  enough　and　uncertainty　enough　in　the　question　as　to　whether　I　can
  personally　please　you。　If　your　reply　is　favorable　I　change　my
  life；　I　bid　adieu　to　all　the　irksome　pleasures　which　we　have　the
  folly　to　call　happiness。　Happiness；　my　dear　and　beautiful　unknown；
  is　what　you　dream　it　to　be；a　fusion　of　feelings；　a　perfect
  accordance　of　souls；　the　imprint　of　a　noble　ideal　（such　as　God
  does　permit　us　to　form　in　this　low　world）　upon　the　trivial　round
  of　daily　life　whose　habits　we　must　needs　obey；　a　constancy　of
  heart　more　precious　far　than　what　we　call　fidelity。　Can　we　say
  that　we　make　sacrifices　when　the　end　in　view　is　our　eternal　good；
  the　dream　of　poets；　the　dream　of　maidens；　the　poem　which；　at　the
  entrance　of　life　when　thought　essays　its　wings；　each　noble
  intellect　has　pondered　and　caressed　only　to　see　it　shivered　to
  fragments　on　some　stone　of　stumbling　as　hard　as　it　is　vulgar？for
  to　the　great　majority　of　men；　the　foot　of　reality　steps　instantly
  on　that　mysterious　egg　so　seldom　hatched。
  I　cannot　speak　to　you　any　more　of　myself；　not　of　my　past　life；　nor
  of　my　character；　nor　of　an　affection　almost　maternal　on　one　side；
  filial　on　mine；　which　you　have　already　seriously　changedan
  effect　upon　my　life　which　must　explain　my　use　of　the　word
  〃sacrifice。〃　You　have　already　rendered　me　forgetful；　if　not
  ungrateful；　does　that　satisfy　you？　Oh；　speak！　Say　to　me　one　word；
  and　I　will　love　you　till　my　eyes　close　in　death；　as　the　Marquis　de
  Pescaire　loved　his　wife；　as　Romeo　loved　Juliet；　and　faithfully。
  Our　life　will　be；　for　me　at　least；　that　〃felicity　untroubled〃
  which　Dante　made　the　very　element　of　his　Paradiso；a　poem　far
  superior　to　his　Inferno。　Strange；　it　is　not　myself　that　I　doubt　in
  the　long　reverie　through　which；　like　you；　I　follow　the　windings　of
  a　dreamed　existence；　it　is　you。　Yes；　dear；　I　feel　within　me　the
  power　to　love；　and　to　love　endlessly；to　march　to　the　grave　with
  gentle　slowness　and　a　smiling　eye；　with　my　beloved　on　my　arm；　and
  with　never　a　cloud　upon　the　sunshine　of　our　souls。　Yes；　I　dare　to
  face　our　mutual　old　age；　to　see　ourselves　with　whitening　heads；
  like　the　venerable　historian　of　Italy；　inspired　always　with　the
  same　affection　but　transformed　in　soul　by　our　life's　seasons。　Hear
  me；　I　can　no　longer　be　your　friend　only。　Though　Chrysale；　Geronte；
  and　Argante　re…live；　you　say；　in　me；　I　am　not　yet　old　enough　to
  drink　from　the　cup　held　to　my　lips　by　the　sweet　hands　of　a　veiled
  woman　without　a　passionate　desire　to　tear　off　the　domino　and　the
  mask　and　see　the　face。　Either　write　me　no　more；　or　give　me　hope。
  Let　me　see　you；　or　let　me　go。　Must　I　bid　you　adieu？　Will　you
  permit　me　to　sign　myself；
  Your　Friend？
  To　Monsieur　de　Canalis；What　flattery！　with　what　rapidity　is　the
  grave　Anselme　transformed　into　a　handsome　Leander！　To　what　must　I
  attribute　such　a　change？　to　this　black　which　I　put　upon　this
  white？　to　these　ideas　which　are　to　the　flowers　of　my　soul　what　a
  rose　drawn　in　charcoal　is　to　the　roses　in　the　garden？　Or　is　it　to
  a　recollection　of　the　young　girl　whom　you　took　for　me；　and　who　is
  personally　as　like　me　as　a　waiting…woman　is　like　her　mistress？
  Have　we　changed　roles？　Have　I　the　sense？　have　you　the　fancy？　But　a
  truce　with　jesting。
  Your　letter　has　made　me　know　the　elating　pleasures　of　the　soul；
  the　first　that　I　have　known　outside　of　my　family　affections。　What；
  says　a　poet；　are　the　ties　of　blood　which　are　so　strong　in　ordinary
  minds；　compared　to　those　divinely　forged　within　us　by　mysterious
  sympathies？　Let　me　thank　youno；　we　must　not　thank　each　other　for
  such　thingsbut　God　bless　you　for　the　happiness　you　have　given
  me；　be　happy　in　the　joy　you　have　shed　into　my　soul。　You　explain　to
  me　some　of　the　apparent　injustices　in　social　life。　There　is
  something；　I　know　not　what；　so　dazzling；　so　virile　in　glory；　that
  it　belongs　only　to　man；　God　forbids　us　women　to　wear　its　halo；　but
  he　makes　love　our　portion；　giving　us　the　tenderness　which　soothes
  the　brow　scorched　by　his　lightnings。　I　have　felt　my　mission；　and
  you　have　now　confirmed　it。
  Sometimes；　my　friend；　I　rise　in　the　morning　in　a　state　of
  inexpressible　sweetness；　a　sort　of　peace；　tender　and　divine；　gives
  me　an　idea　of　heaven。　My　first　thought　is　then　like　a　benediction。
  I　call　these　mornings　my　little　German　wakings；　in　opposition　to
  my　Southern　sunsets；　full　of　heroic　deeds；　battles；　Roman　fetes
  and　ardent　poems。　Well；　after　reading　your　letter；　so　full　of
  feverish　impatience；　I　felt　in　my　heart　all　the　freshness　of　my
  celestial　wakings；　when　I　love　the　air　about　me　and　all　nature；
  and　fancy　that　I　am　destined　to　die　for　one　I　love。　One　of　your
  poems；　〃The　Maiden's　So