of my life. It was this one alone that I loved, and loved more than any
other. It was this one alone that was destined to be the beginning and
source of my by any pleasure, although often tempted, being at last
vanquished, have burned and now burn in the fire which then first caught
me. Omitting many thoughts that came into my mind, and many things that
were told me, I will only say that, intoxicated by a new passion, I
returned with a soul enslaved to that spot whence I had gone forth in
freedom.

When I was in my chamber, alone and unoccupied, inflamed with various
wild wishes, filled with new sensations and throbbing with many
anxieties, all of which were concentrated on the image of the youth who
pleased me, I argued within myself that if I could not banish love from
my luckless bosom, I might at least be able to keep cautious and secret
control of it therein; and how hard it is to do such a thing, no one can
discover who does not make trial of the same. Surely do I believe that
not even Love himself can cause so great anguish as such an attempt is
certain to produce. Furthermore, I was arrested in my purpose by the
fact that I had no acquaintance with him of whom I professed myself
enamored. To relate all the thoughts that were engendered in me by this
love, and of what nature they were, would take altogether too much time.
But some few I must perforce declare, as well as certain things that
were beginning to delight me more than usual. I say, then, that,
everything else being neglected, the only thing that was dear to me was
the thought of my beloved, and, when it occurred to my mind that, by
persevering in this course, I might, mayhap, give occasion to some one
to discover that which I wished to conceal, I often upbraided myself for
my folly. But what availed it all? My upbraidings had to give way to my
inordinate yearning for him, and dissolved uselessly into thin air.