“ ‘Dear Acaris,’ cried she, ‘how happy am I in those moments, which I snatch from everything that employs me, to deliver myself up to thee. After those which I pass in thy arms, these are the sweetest of my life.⁠—Nothing disturbs me; around me all is silence: my curtains not quite closed, let in but just as much day as is necessary for moving me to tenderness, and gazing on thee. I command my imagination: it calls thee forth, and immediately I see thee. Dear Acaris, how beautiful thou appear’st to me!⁠—Yes, those are thy eyes, thy smile, thy mouth. Hide not that growing bosom from me⁠—Let me kiss it⁠—I have not sufficiently gazed on it.⁠—Let me kiss it again. Ah! let me die on it⁠—What fury seizes me?⁠—Acaris, dear Acaris, where art thou?⁠—Come then, dear Acaris. Ah! dear and tender friend, I swear to thee, that unknown sentiments have taken possession of my soul. It is filled with them, it is astonished at them, it is not able to contain them.⁠—Flow, delightful tears, flow, and ease the ardor which devours me.⁠—No, dear Acaris, no; that Alizali, whom thou prefer’st to me, will not love thee as I do⁠—But I hear a noise⁠—Ah! ’tis Acaris without doubt⁠—Come, dear female friend, come⁠—’