Augustin. The Count de
V----, with whom I was in almost daily correspondence, knew all. I had
given him a letter of introduction to Julie, that he might know the
soul of my soul, and that he might understand, if not my delirium, at
least my adoration for that woman. At first sight, he comprehended and
almost shared my enthusiasm. In his letters, he always alluded, with
tender pity and respect, to that fair vision of melancholy, which
seemed hovering between life and death, and only detained on earth, he
said, by the ineffable love she bore to me. He always spoke to me of
her as of a heavenly gift, sent to my eyes and heart, and which would
raise me above human nature as long as I remained enveloped in her
radiance. V----, who was persuaded of the holy and superhuman nature of
our attachment, considered it as a virtue, and felt no repugnance to
being the mediator and confidant of our love. Julie, on her part, spoke
of V---- as the only friend she considered worthy of me, and for whom
she would have wished to increase my friendship, instead of detracting
from it by a mean jealousy of the heart.
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