To the Chevalier Deterville, at Paris.

It was almost at the same time, Sir, that I read the news of your departure from Malta, and that of your arrival at Paris. Whatever pleasure I shall find at seeing you again, it cannot overcome my concern, which the letter you wrote me at your arrival occasioned.

Can you, Deterville, after having so nicely dissembled your sentiments in every letter which you have before sent me; after having given me reason to hope that I should no longer have your passion to contend with; can you, I say, give yourself up to it in a greater degree than ever?

What end does it answer to affect a deference towards me, which you contradict at the same time that you profess it? You beg leave to see me; you assure me that you will submit to my decrees, and yet you avow sentiments which are the most opposite to my desires. This behaviour offends me, and I must assure you, that I can never approve of it.

But since I perceive you delude yourself with false expectations, and give a wrong turn to the confidence I place in you, it is high time I should make you acquainted with my fixed resolves, which are different from yours, for they are never to be shaken.

In vain do you flatter yourself that my heart will ever wear new chains. The perfidy of another does not set me free from my engagement. Would to Heaven it could make me forget the ungrateful cause of it: but were it possible I could forget him, yet just to myself, I never would be perjured. The cruel Aza abandons one to whom he was dear; but his right over her is not the less sacred. I may be cured of my passion for him, but never can feel any for another.