Aza, all is not lost: I breathe, and you still reign over one heart. The vigilance of those who watched me disappointed my fatal design, and I have only the shame left of having attempted it. It would be too long too inform you of the circumstances of an enter prize destroyed as soon as projected. Should I have dared ever to have lifted up my eyes to you, if you had been a witness of my passion?

My reason, subjected to despair, was no longer of service to me: My life seemed of no value: I had forgot your love.

How shocking is a cool temper after the violence of passion! in what different lights do we see the same objects! in the horrors of despair fierceness is taken for courage, and the fear of suffering for firmness of mind. Let a look, Sur prize, call us back to ourselves, and we find that weakness only was the principle of our heroism; that repentance is the fruit of it, and contempt the reward.

The knowlege of my faults is the severest punishment I can receive. Abandoned to the bitterness of repentance, hid beneath the veil of shame, I hold myself at a distance, and fear that my body occupies too much space: I would hide it from the light; my tears flow plentifully; my grief is calm, not a sigh escapes, tho' I am quite given up to melancholy. Can I do too much to expiate my crime? it was against you.

In vain, for these two days, these benevolent savages have endeavoured to make me share in the joy that transports them. I cannot at all conceive what can be the cause of this joy; but if I did know it, I should not think myself worthy to share in it. Their dances, their exclamations, a red liquor like Mays, of which they drink plentifully; their eagerness to behold the Sun, wherever they can perceive him, would convince me that their rejoicings were in honour of that Divine Luminary, if the behaviour of the Cacique was conformable to that of the rest.