Unhappy being that I am!  Why do I thus deceive myself?  What is to come of all this wild, aimless, endless passion?  I cannot pray except to her.  My imagination sees nothing but her:  all surrounding objects are of no account, except as they relate to her.  In this dreamy state I enjoy many happy hours, till at length I feel compelled to tear myself away from her.  Ah, Wilhelm, to what does not my heart often compel me!  When I have spent several hours in her company, till I feel completely absorbed by her figure, her grace, the divine expression of her thoughts, my mind becomes gradually excited to the highest excess, my sight grows dim, my hearing confused, my breathing oppressed as if by the hand of a murderer, and my beating heart seeks to obtain relief for my aching senses.  I am sometimes unconscious whether I really exist.  If in such moments I find no sympathy, and Charlotte does not allow me to enjoy the melancholy consolation of bathing her hand with my tears, I feel compelled to tear myself from her, when I either wander through the country, climb some precipitous cliff, or force a path through the trackless thicket, where I am lacerated and torn by thorns and briers; and thence I find relief.  Sometimes I lie stretched on the ground, overcome with fatigue and dying with thirst; sometimes, late in the night, when the moon shines above me, I recline against an aged tree in some sequestered forest, to rest my weary limbs, when, exhausted and worn, I sleep till break of day.  O Wilhelm! the hermit’s cell, his sackcloth, and girdle of thorns would be luxury and indulgence compared with what I suffer.  Adieu!  I see no end to this wretchedness except the grave.

September 3.

I must away.  Thank you, Wilhelm, for determining my wavering purpose.  For a whole fortnight I have thought of leaving her.  I must away.  She has returned to town, and is at the house of a friend.  And then, Albert —­ yes, I must go.

September 10.

Oh, what a night, Wilhelm!  I can henceforth bear anything.  I shall never see her again.  Oh, why cannot I fall on your neck, and, with floods of tears and raptures, give utterance to all the passions which distract my heart!  Here I sit gasping for breath, and struggling to compose myself.  I wait for day, and at sunrise the horses are to be at the door.

And she is sleeping calmly, little suspecting that she has seen me for the last time.  I am free.  I have had the courage, in an interview of two hours’ duration, not to betray my intention.  And O Wilhelm, what a conversation it was!

Albert had promised to come to Charlotte in the garden immediately after supper.  I was upon the terrace under the tall chestnut trees, and watched the setting sun.  I saw him sink for the last time beneath this delightful valley and silent stream.  I had often visited the same spot with Charlotte, and witnessed that glorious sight; and now —­ I was walking up and down the very avenue which was so dear to me.  A secret sympathy had frequently drawn me thither before I knew Charlotte; and we were delighted when, in our early acquaintance, we discovered that we each loved the same spot, which is indeed as romantic as any that ever captivated the fancy of an artist.