Why seek an unseen friend?
you ask.

Your person may be unknown to me, but your mind, your heart I _know_; they please me, and I feel an infinitude of thoughts within my soul which need a man of genius for their confidant.

I do not wish the poem of my heart to be wasted; I would have it known to you as it is to God.

What a precious thing is a true comrade, one to whom we can tell all! You will surely not reject the unpublished leaflets of a young girl's thoughts when they fly to you like the pretty insects fluttering to the sun?
I am sure you have never before met with this good fortune of the soul,--the honest confidences of an honest girl.
Listen to her prattle; accept the music that she sings to you in her own heart.

Later, if our souls are sisters, if our characters warrant the attempt, a white-haired old serving-man shall await you by the wayside and lead you to the cottage, the villa, the castle, the palace--I don't know yet what sort of bower it will be, nor what its color, nor whether this conclusion will ever be possible; but you will admit, will you not?
that it is poetic, and that Mademoiselle d'Este has a complying disposition.