Tuesday.

O! my daughter, they are here! … I have seen and embraced them! … They are here; and neither grief nor joy has been fatal. Scarce was I out of bed this morning, when I heard a carriage in the Court: thinking it mine, I finished dressing, when my door suddenly flew open, and I saw Mons. d’ Almane and Theodore … At the same instant, Adelaide, amazed, ran in and threw herself into her father's arms. What a scene! … what happiness! after a year's absence, after having felt so many fears and anxieties! you, my daughter, who know my heart; you alone are capable of judging of the extent of my felicity! … The meeting of Adelaide and the Chevalier de Valmont was at noon! He is so affected, so transported with his good fortune, that he is deprived of speech. He can only gaze on Adelaide, embrace his mother, and kiss my hands. Adelaide blushes more than usual, and redoubles her tenderness to me. Her eyes frequently are filled with tears, when she looks at me; but she does not avoid the Chevalier, nor even omit any opportunity of shewing her attention to him, or saying an obliging thing. Theodore takes a lively share in his friend's happiness; to-morrow evening he will be acquainted with his own; for Mons. d’ Almane has sent an express to the Viscount who has been absent a week, and they only wait for his return to declare the marriage of Constantia and Theodore. You cannot form an idea of the affectionate joy of Mons. d’ Aimeri, yet the indelible remembrance of the hapless Cecilia troubles him in the midst of his transports! Have I deserved so much happiness! said he to me this evening, I always dread losing it … He pronounced these words in a voice that penetrated me: one single subject of remorse suffices to taint the purest felicity … To enjoy true happiness, one must have merited it.