Letter to Aglaé de Hunolstein by Lafayette

Chauvaniac 27 March 1783
You are too cruel, my dear Aglaée. You realize my heart's torments. You know that it is torn between love and duty, and you insist that it pronounce a decision upon that miserable resolution. You have seen me make so many that I did not have the strength to keep. A hundred times I considered the last word said, the final promise made; a hundred times I have put myself under obligation in regard to you, and a hundred times the instant I saw you and touched you proved too well how weak I am. I did not see your mother. I looked for her, however, but without being sorry not to find her. Her arguments are so good, and they are so contrary to my hearts desire. When I came back from America, my lovable dear, was it you, or was it I who did the preaching on the way we had of being together? Do you remember my insistence, your refusals, our quarrels. I accused you of repugnance, you accused me of lacking delacacy. Our quarrels ended like all lovers' quarrels, but although carried away by my passion, I would recall both the reproaches of your relatives and the efforts that I was making to win you. Everyday renewed resistance and in consequence new regrets. I was happy, however, it must be admitted, but you were not, and it is you who risk everything while get nearly all the pleasure. You consented hardly a single time without resistance, and the last decisions which you have made are a constant reproach to my lack of delicacy. at each moment you ruin your life for me, and then to make me appreciate it the more, you refuse to share what I feel. And you still demand that I decide? Ah you know only too well my passion, my transport, my entire abandon. You have too often beheld my struggles and my weakness. You have known me; you have loved me in every respect; but you have never known me to be generous except in contemplation, and whatever it may cost me, I want if I can to be so once in reality.
It is over a year that you have endeavored to break this sort of tie. Every day has seen your efforts redouble. Every day you have had to stand for either a display of temperament or of violence. Now you are taking a final course; it is the cruelest for me, but it is only one that might succeed, and the only question is to find out whether I am a decent man. You put in my hands your peace of mind, your safety, and much more, as you know. I do not mention your family, since I would not give up so much happiness for anyone else in the world. You understand the extent of my sacrifice. you have often seen me grow pale merely at the idea of that recouncilation. But after all, for a year, I have seen that there was something more at stake than my happiness. I will silence my heart, and as you have wisely predicted, I am more master of myself in a letter than in a conversation. It would have been kinder not to have given me the pain of deciding, but since you have wished it so, rest assured my dear, that my heart is delicate though passionate. So be it.
I laid my pen aside for a long time before writing these words. But after all, it is your wish, and that of you family. Your whole existence depends on it. What need did you have of my opinion? Can a decent man advise you to ruin your life? No, my dear, and whatever it may cost me, I advise what reason tells you, and decency imposes upon me.
In coming to this conclusion, my dear, I fully realize how repugnant it all is. I well appreciate that only my opinion is needed and that you keenly wish for this decision. For if there were not so acute a danger, you would not place upon me the horror of a decision. Such vile coquetry is so far from the nobility of your sentiments. May you find peace, since we are not to be happy. There you are then at the point where for a year, you have wanted to be.
As to the nonsense people tell you, I do not care to take those feeble weapons away from your family You know yourself, and some day you will know better yet what those weapons are. But at least my heart is my own dear Aglaé. All that you are, all that I owe you, justifies my love and nothing, not even you, would keep me from adoring you.