tenderness.—Judge, my dear Adelgunde, judge of my surprise when I recognized in form and feature the man of my dreams in the friend that my brother introduced to us. Alban, that is his name, subjects me, in spite of myself, to the power of his look; but instead of the nervous convulsions which agitated me, I felt a drowsy calmness pervade all my senses; my dreams vanished, my slumber became profound, and the feverish vivacity of my spirits was quieted. Only that it happened to me sometimes, whilst sleeping, to believe myself endowed with a new sense. A mysterious communication established itself between Alban and myself; he interrogates me, and. I tell him what is passing in my mind, as if I were reading from a book. At another time Alban himself occupies my mind; it seems to me that I find his thoughts within me, that he lights up by his will a flame in my soul which shines or is extinguished as this will attracts or repulses me; it is a state of transubstantiation in which I find a happiness superior to all that life can offer. You will laugh at me perhaps, dear Adelgunde; you will think me mad or very ill. But whatever it may be, think and be assured that I have never loved Hippolyt more, or desired his return with greater earnestness. Since Alban has subjected me to this power, which he calls, I believe, magnetism, it seems to me that it is through him I love Hippolyt with deeper tenderness. Alban, this sublime and beneficent spirit will protect both of us until after our union.
Sometimes, however, I am afraid of him. Strange suspicions tear away the veil of enthusiasm in which I have wrapped the figure of Alban in the depths of my soul. I have hours of fascination, during which I imagine that I see him in the midst of all the attributes that serve, as is said, to accomplish guilty sorceries. His noble features vanish, and I see a hideous skeleton, whose bones rattle in the folds of slimy reptiles that encompass it. For the rest, Alban, who possesses my confidence, and to whom I innocently relate all my sensations, all my doubts concerning him, never fails to
