I had no
project for the future which could amuse my imagination. It was not
even possible to form any, as my situation was precisely that in which
all my desires were united. I had not another to conceive, and yet
there was a void in my heart. This state was the more cruel, as I
saw no other that was to be preferred to it. I had fixed my most
tender affections upon a person who made me a return of her own. I
lived with her without constraint, and, so to speak, at discretion.
Notwithstanding this, a secret grief of mind never quitted me for a
moment, either when she was present or absent. In possessing
Theresa, I still perceived she wanted something to her happiness;
and the sole idea of my not being everything to her had such an effect
upon my mind that she was next to nothing to me.
I had friends of both sexes, to whom I was attached by the purest
friendship and most perfect esteem; I depended upon a real return on
their part, and a doubt of their sincerity never entered my mind;
yet this friendship was more tormenting than agreeable to me, by their
obstinate perseverance, and even by their affectation, in opposing
my taste, inclinations, and manner of living; and this to such a
degree, that the moment I seemed to desire a thing which interested
myself only, and depended not upon them, they immediately joined their
efforts to oblige me to renounce it. This continued desire to
control me in all my wishes, the more unjust, as I did not so much
as make myself acquainted with theirs, became so cruelly oppressive,
that I never received one of their letters without feeling a certain
terror as I opened it, and which was but too well justified by the
contents.
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