Returning from the ball, there was a most magnificent sunrise.  Our companions were asleep.  Charlotte asked me if I did not wish to sleep too, and begged me not to stand on ceremony.  Looking deep into her eyes, I answered, “As long as those eyes remain open, there is no fear for mine.”  We continued awake until we reached her door.  I left her, asking her permission to call in the course of the day.  She consented, and I went Since then, sun, moon, and stars may pursue their course; I know not whether it is day or night; the whole world is nothing to me.

June 21.  My days are as happy as those reserved by God for His elect, and whatever be my fate hereafter, I can never say that I have not tasted joy—­the purest joy of life.  Little did I think when I selected this spot for my home that all heaven lay within half a league of it.

How childish is man.  To be disturbed about a mere look.  We had been to Walheim, but during our walk I thought I saw in Charlotte’s eyes—­I am a fool, but forgive me.  You should see her eyes.  However, to be brief, as the ladies were preparing to drive away I watched her eyes; they wandered from one to another, but they did not alight on me—­on me who saw nothing but her.  She noticed me not.  The carriage drove off, and my eyes filled with tears.  Suddenly I saw Charlotte’s bonnet leaning out of the window, and she turned to look back—­was it at me?  I know not, and in uncertainty is my consolation.  Perhaps she turned to look at me.  Perhaps.  Good-night.  What a child I am!

July 10.  Someone asked me the other day how I like her.  How I like her!  What sort of creature must he be who merely likes Charlotte?  Whose entire being were not absolutely filled with her?  Like her!  One might as well ask if I like Ossian.

July 13.  No, I am not deceived.  In her dark eyes I read a real interest in me.  Yes, I feel it, and I believe my own heart which tells me—­dare I say it?—­that she loves me.  How the idea exalts me in my own eyes.  And as you can understand my feelings, I may say to you, how I honour myself because she loves me.

I do not know a man able to take my place in her heart; yet when she speaks of Albert with so much warmth and affection, I feel like a soldier who has been stripped of all his honours.  Sometimes when we are talking, in the eagerness of conversation she comes closer to me, and her balmy breath reaches my lips, I feel that I could sink into the earth for very joy.  And yet, Wilhelm, if I know myself, and should ever dare—­you understand me—­No, no; my heart is not so corrupt; it is weak, but is not that a degree of corruption?

She is to me a sacred being; how her simplest song enchants me.  Sometimes, when I am ready to commit suicide, she sings some favourite air, and instantly the gloom and madness are dispersed.

July 24.  Yes, dear Charlotte.  I will arrange everything.  Only give me more commissions; the more the better.  One thing, however, I must request you—­use no more writing-sand with the letters you send me!  Today, I raised your letter to my lips, and it set my teeth on edge.