I entreat you to separate the author entirely from the man and to believe in the sincerity of the sentiments which I have had to express vaguely in the correspondence you have obliged me to carry on with you. If you are kind enough to excuse the folly of a youthful heart and of an imagination quite unsullied， I will confess to you that you have been to me the object of the sweetest dreams， it pleases me to include you amongst the remains， nearly always unfortunate， of a scattered people， a people found only here and there on earth. Perhaps exiled from Heavcn...Poetry， music， and religion are their three divinities， their dominating passions， each of which awakens in their hearts equally powerful sensations. So I have clothed you with all these ideas， and have stretched forth my hand to you fraternally from afar， without foppishness as well as without sentimental foolery， but with a confidence， almost domestic， with conscientiousness； and if you had only gazed upon my face， you might have traced there at the same time the lover's gratitude and the heart's religion—the true tenderness that binds the son to the mother and the brother to the sister， all the respect of the young man for the woman and the delightful anticipation of a long and fervent friendship.