I only think of you! I sleep no more--I eat no more. Your sad and
melancholy looks follow me everywhere. Is that pity? Now, when you speak to
me, your voice, your look, go to my heart. There are a thousand things in
you which now please me, and which I had not remarked. I love your face, I
love your eyes, I love you, I love your mind, I love your good heart; is
this still pity? Why, after having loved you as a friend, do I love you as
a lover? I do not know! Why was I lively and gay when I loved you as a
friend? Why am I all changed since I love you as a lover? I do not know.
Why have I waited so long to find you both handsome and good? to love you
at once with my eyes and my heart? I do not know; or, rather, yes, I do
know: it is because I have discovered how much you loved me without ever
telling it; how much you were generous and devoted. Then love mounted from
my heart to my eyes, like as a soft tear mounts there when one is
affected."
"Really, I think I am in a dream on hearing you talk thus."
"And I, then! I never should have thought it possible that I could dare to
tell you all this; but your despair compelled me! Ah, well! now that you
know that I love you as my friend, as my lover, as my husband, will you
still say it is pity?"
The generous scruples of Germain were dispelled in a moment before this
avowal, so artless and courageous. A joy unlooked--for tore him from his
sorrowful meditations.
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