are talking she Iays her hand upon mine, and in the eagerness of
conversation comes closer to me, and her balmy breath reaches my
lips, -- when I feel as if lightning had struck me, and that I
could sink into the earth. And yet, Wilhelm, with all this heavenly
confidence, -- if I know myself, and should ever dare -- you
understand me. No, no! my heart is not so corrupt, it is weak,
weak enough but is not that a degree of corruption?

She is to me a sacred being. All passion is still in her presence:
I cannot express my sensations when I am near her. I feel as if
my soul beat in every nerve of my body. There is a melody which
she plays on the piano with angelic skill, -- so simple is it,
and yet so spiritual! It is her favourite air; and, when she
plays the first note, all pain, care, and sorrow disappear from
me in a moment.

I believe every word that is said of the magic of ancient music.
How her simple song enchants me! Sometimes, when I am ready to
commit suicide, she sings that air; and instantly the gloom and
madness which hung over me are dispersed, and I breathe freely
again.

JULY 18.

Wilhelm, what is the world to our hearts without love? What is
a magic-lantern without light? You have but to kindle the flame
within, and the brightest figures shine on the white wall; and,
if love only show us fleeting shadows, we are yet happy, when,
like mere children, we behold them, and are transported with the
splendid phantoms. I have not been able to see Charlotte to-day.