through the very need that I have of you. Perhaps you would have ceased to reproach yourself, as you have sometimes done in moments of calmness and justice, for not being happy though loved as you were by me.

But — you are no more; I am alone in the universe! Nothing remains to me but the dreadful consolation of those who have no other, — that melancholy which likes to drink its tears and shed them without seeking others to share its gloom. Adieu, my dear Julie, adieu ; for these eyes, which I would gladly close forever, are filled with tears as I write these lines, and can see no longer the paper on which I writ them.