“You will not wonder that Agalma, who before this had exercised great fascination over me, now doubly became an object of the most tender interest.  I fell madly in love.  Hitherto I had never known that passion.  My feeling for Ottilie I saw was but the inarticulate stammerings of the mighty voice which now sounded throught the depths of my nature.  The phrase, madly in love, is no exaggeration; madness alone knows such a fever of the brain, such a tumult of the heart.  It was not that reason was overpowered; on the contrary, reason was intensely active, but active with that logic of flames which lights up the vision of maniacs.

“Although, of course, my passion was but too evident to every one, I dreaded its premature avowal, lest I should lose her; and almost equally dreaded delay, lest I should suffer from that also.  At length the avowal was extorted from me by jealousy of a brilliant Pole—­Korinski—­who had recently appeared in our circle, and was obviously casting me in the shade by his superior advantages of novelty, of personal attraction, and of a romantic history.  She accepted me; and now, for a time, I was the happiest of mortals.  The fever of the last few weeks was abating; it gave place to a deep tide of hopeful joy.  Could I have died then!  Could I have even died shortly afterwards, when I knew the delicious mystery of a jealousy not too absorbing!  For you must know that my happiness was brief.  Jealousy, to which all passion of a deep and exacting power is inevitably allied, soon began to disturb my content.  Agalma had no tenderness.  She permitted caresses, never returned them.  She was ready enough to listen to all my plans for the future, so long as the recital moved amid details of fortune and her position in society—­that is, so long as her vanity was interested; but I began to observe with pain that her thoughts never rested on tender domesticities and poetic anticipations.  This vexed me more and more.  The very spell which she exercised over me made her want of tenderness more intolerable.  I yearned for her love—­for some sympathy with the vehement passion which was burning within me; and she was as marble.

“You will not be surprised to hear that I reproached her bitterly for her indifference.  That is the invariable and fatal folly of lovers—­they seem to imagine that a heart can be scolded into tenderness!  To my reproaches she at first answered impatiently that they were unjust; that it was not her fault if her nature was less expansive than mine; and that it was insulting to be told she was indifferent to the man whom she had consented to marry.  Later she answered my reproaches with haughty defiance, one day intimating that if I really thought what I said, and repented our engagement, it would be most prudent for us to separate ere it was too late.  This quieted me for a while.  But it brought no balm to my wounds.

“And now fresh tortures were added.  Korinski became quite marked in his attentions to Agalma.  These she received with evident delight; so much so, that I saw by the glances of others that they were scandalized at it; and this, of course, increased my pain.  My renewed reproaches only made her manner colder to me; to Korinski it became what I would gladly have seen towards myself.