May 17.  I have formed many acquaintances, but as yet have found no friends.  If you inquire what sort of people are here, I answer “the same as everywhere.”  The human race is a monotonous affair.  The majority labours nearly all its time for mere subsistence, and is then so distressed to have a small portion of freedom still unemployed that it exerts even greater efforts to get rid of it.

I have just become acquainted with a very worthy person, the district judge.  They tell me how charming it is to see him in the midst of his family of nine.  His eldest daughter is much spoken of.  He has invited me to go and see him.

June 16.  Why do I not write to you?  You should have guessed that I was pre-occupied; that, in a word, that I have made a friend who has won my heart.  I have found—­I know not what.  An angel?  Nonsense!  Everyone so describes his mistress.  And yet I cannot tell you how perfect she is, or why so perfect.  Between ourselves, I have been three times on the point of throwing down my pen, ordering my horse, and riding out.  And yet this morning I determined not to ride to-day; and I keep running to the window to see how high the sun is.

I could not restrain myself; go to her I must.  I have just returned, Wilhelm, and while I eat my supper I will write to you.  I had already made the acquaintance of her aunt, the judge’s sister, and with her I was going to accompany Charlotte to a ball given by some young people in the neighbourhood.  While we were on our way to fetch her, my companion was loud in her praises of her niece’s beauty and charm.  “Take care, however,” she added, “that you do not lose your heart.”  “Why?” I asked.  “Because she is already betrothed to a most excellent man.”

As the door opened, I saw before me the most charming sight that I have ever beheld.  Six children, of various ages, were running about the hall and surrounding a lady of medium height, with a lovely figure, dressed in a robe of simple white, trimmed with pink ribbons.  She held a loaf of brown bread, and was cutting slices for the little ones all round.  She apologised for not being quite ready, explaining that household duties had made her forget the children’s supper, which they always preferred to take from her.  I uttered some unmeaning compliment, but my whole soul was absorbed by her air, her voice, her manner.  You who know me can imagine how I gazed upon her rich, dark eyes; how my soul gloated over her warm lips and fresh glowing cheeks.

Never did I dance more lightly; I felt myself more than mortal, holding this loveliest of creatures in my arms, flying with her as rapidly as the wind, till I lost sight of every other object.  And, oh, Wilhelm, I vowed at that moment that no maiden whom I loved should ever waltz with another than myself, if I went to perdition for it.