Here am I, the confidant of these two young people and the mediator of their affection.  What a fine task for a tutor!  So fine that never in all my life have I stood so high in my own eyes, nor felt so pleased with myself.  Moreover, this duty is not without its charms.  I am not unwelcome in the home; it is my business to see that the lovers behave themselves; Emile, ever afraid of offending me, was never so docile.  The little lady herself overwhelms me with a kindness which does not deceive me, and of which I only take my proper share.  This is her way of making up for her severity towards Emile.  For his sake she bestows on me a hundred tender caresses, though she would die rather than bestow them on him; and he, knowing that I would never stand in his way, is delighted that I should get on so well with her.  If she refuses his arm when we are out walking, he consoles himself with the thought that she has taken mine.  He makes way for me without a murmur, be clasps my hand, and voice and look alike whisper, “My friend, plead for me!” and his eyes follow us with interest; he tries to read our feelings in our faces, and to interpret our conversation by our gestures; he knows that everything we are saying concerns him.  Dear Sophy, how frank and easy you are when you can talk to Mentor without being overheard by Telemachus.  How freely and delightfully you permit him to read what is passing in your tender little heart!  How delighted you are to show him how you esteem his pupil!  How cunningly and appealingly you allow him to divine still tenderer sentiments.  With what a pretence of anger you dismiss Emile when his impatience leads him to interrupt you?  With what pretty vexation you reproach his indiscretion when he comes and prevents you saying something to his credit, or listening to what I say about him, or finding in my words some new excuse to love him!

Having got so far as to be tolerated as an acknowledged lover, Emile takes full advantage of his position; he speaks, he urges, he implores, he demands.  Hard words or ill treatment make no difference, provided he gets a hearing.  At length Sophy is persuaded, though with some difficulty, to assume the authority of a betrothed, to decide what he shall do, to command instead of to ask, to accept instead of to thank, to control the frequency and the hours of his visits, to forbid him to come till such a day or to stay beyond such an hour.  This is not done in play, but in earnest, and if it was hard to induce her to accept these rights, she uses them so sternly that Emile is often ready to regret that he gave them to her.  But whatever her commands, they are obeyed without question, and often when at her bidding he is about to leave her, he glances at me his eyes full of delight, as if to say, “You see she has taken possession of me.”  Yet unknown to him, Sophy, with all her pride, is observing him closely, and she is smiling to herself at the pride of her slave.