I look up to you as a faithful, reliable friend, as the noblest and most estimable of men.
It hurts me to feel that my past life must be an obstacle to your confidence. Before I cared for you, I felt no shame for it, I made no attempt to conceal or alter it; but, since I have known you, this attitude of mind has changed in every respect. I blush for myself, and dread lest my love have not the strength to erase the stains of the past. I fear it even more, when you suspect me unjustly.
My Victor, it is for your love to sanctify me, for your esteem to renew in me all that once was good and pure.
I care for you so much that all this is possible. I will become worthy of you, if you will only help me.
Farewell. You are my soul, my life, my religion; I love you.
Juliette.
Your appreciation of my letters is one of the best proofs of love you have yet given me. I will set to work to reconstruct them. Nothing has happened since you left me yesterday, except that my love for you has increased.
(1833.)
Before reading this letter, look upon me once more with affection.
My poor friend, I am about to grieve and surprise you greatly. Yet it has to be done. I no longer have the courage to bear up against your unjust and suspicious jealousy, and your continued mistrust of a sentiment as pure and true as that which one cherishes towards God. They wear me out and make me wretched to the last degree. I would rather leave you, than expose myself to fresh grief, which might end in destroying either my reason or my love. This resolve is dictated by the excess of my affection. Even if you suffer, forgive me, and bless me before you leave me for ever. I love you.