the same rigour as if I were hated; I hoped something from time,
but I have no reason to expect it any longer; I see her always
equally on her guard against me and against herself; if I were
not loved, I should make it my business to please; but I do
please; she loves me, and tries to hide it from me. What have I
then to hope, and what change am I to expect in my fortune?
though I am loved by the most amiable person in the world, I am
under that excess of passion which proceeds from the first
certainty of being loved by her, only to make me more sensible of
being ill used; let me see that you love me, fair Princess,"
cried he, "make me acquainted with your sentiments; provided I
know them once in my life from you, I am content that you resume
for ever the cruelties with which you oppress me; look upon me at
least with the same eyes with which I saw you look that night
upon my picture; could you behold that with such sweet
complacency, and yet avoid me with so much cruelty? What are you
afraid of? Why does my love appear so terrible to you? You love
me, and you endeavour in vain to conceal it; you have even given
me involuntary proofs of it; I know my happiness, permit me to
enjoy it, and cease to make me unhappy. Is it possible I should
be loved by the Princess of Cleves, and yet be unhappy? how
beautiful was she last night? how could I forbear throwing myself
at her feet? If I had done it, I might perhaps have hindered her
from shunning me, my respectful behaviour would have removed her
fears; but perhaps, after all, she did not know it was I; I
afflict myself more than I need; she was only frightened to see a
man at so unseasonable an hour."

These thoughts employed the Duke de Nemours all the day; he
wished impatiently for the night, and as soon as it came he