My letters will have shown you how lovely I am. I don’t dine at Court, I see
few people, and take my walks alone, and at every beautiful spot I wish you were
there.
I can’t help loving you more than is good for me; I shall feel all the
happier when I see you again. I am always conscious of my nearness to you, your
presence never leaves me. In you I have a measure for every woman, for everyone;
in your love a measure for all that is to be. Not in the sense that the rest of
the world seems obscure tome, on the contrary, your love makes it clear; I see
quite clearly what men are like and what they plan, wish, do and enjoy; I don’t
grudge them what they have, and comparing is a secret joy to me, possessing as I
do such an imperishable treasure.
You in your household must feel as I often do in my affairs; we often don’t
notice objects simply because we don’t choose to look at them, but things
acquire an interest as soon as we see clearly the way they are related to each
other. For we always like to join in, and the good man takes pleasure in
arranging, putting in order and furthering the right and its peaceful rule.
Adieu, you whom I love a thousand times.
June 17, 1784
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