F.

Friday 8 p.m.

'If only I were a clever woman, I could describe to you my gorgeous bird,
how you unite in yourself the beauties of form, plumage, and song!

I would tell you that you are the greatest marvel of all ages,
and I should only be speaking the simple truth.
But to put all this into suitable words, my superb one,
I should require a voice far more harmonious than
that which is bestowed upon my species –

I will not tell you to what degree you are dazzling
and to the birds of sweet song who, as you know,
are none the less beautiful and appreciative.

I love you, I love you. My Victor; I can not reiterate it too often;
I can never express it as much as I feel it.

I recognise you in all the beauty that surrounds me in form,
in colour, in perfume, in harmonious sound: all of these mean you to me.
You are superior to all. I see and admire - you are all!

You are not only the solar spectrum with the seven luminous colours, but the sun himself, that illumines, warms, and revivifies! This is what you are, and I am the lowly woman that adores you.'

Juliette