Currently Alexis By Marguerite Yourcenar see related

Thus, I do have memories of love. No doubt it was not a true passion, but I am not sure whether a true passion would have made me better or only happier. Nevertheless, I see too clearly how much egotism such an emotion contains. I attached myself to you. I attached myself: that, unhappily, is the only appropriate word. Weeks went by; every day the princess found reasons to keep you there longer; I think you began to become accustomed to me. We came to exchange our memories of childhood. Thanks to you, I was aware of happy ones. Through me, you were aware of sad ones. It was as if we had divided our pasts in half. Every hour increased this shy fraternal intimacy, and I realised with horror that we had come to be thought of as fiancés.

                                                                                                                          Alexis, Marguerite Yourcenar