laugh where the veteran soldier looks grave," was a remark made to me
by the Comte de Chaulieu, that poor cavalry officer whose campaigning so
far has consisted in marches from Paris to Fontainebleau and back again.

I surmise, too, my dear love, that you have not told me all. There
are wounds which you have hidden. You suffer; I am convinced of it. In
trying to make out at this distance and from the scraps you tell me the
reasons of your conduct, I have weaved together all sorts of romantic
theories about you. "She has made a mere experiment in marriage," I
thought one evening, "and what is happiness for me had proved only
suffering to her. Her sacrifice is barren of reward, and she would not
make it greater than need be. The unctuous axioms of social morality are
only used to cloak her disappointment." Ah! Renee, the best of happiness
is that it needs no dogma and no fine words to pave the way; it speaks
for itself, while theory has been piled upon theory to justify the
system of women's vassalage and thralldom. If self-denial be so noble,
so sublime, what, pray, of my joy, sheltered by the gold-and-white
canopy of the church, and witnessed by the hand and seal of the most
sour-faced of mayors? Is it a thing out of nature?

For the honor of the law, for her own sake, but most of all to make my
happiness complete, I long to see my Renee content. Oh! tell me that
you see a dawn of love for this Louis who adores you! Tell me that the
solemn, symbolic torch of Hymen has not alone served to lighten your
darkness, but that love, the glorious sun of our hearts, pours his rays
on you. I come back always, you see, to this midday blaze, which will be
my destruction, I fear.

Dear Renee, do you remember how, in your outbursts of girlish devotion,
you would say to me, as we sat under the vine-covered arbor of the
convent garden, "I love you so, Louise, that if God appeared to me in a
vision, I would pray Him that all the sorrows of life might be mine, and
all the joy yours. I burn to suffer for you"? Now, darling, the day has
come when I take up your prayer, imploring Heaven to grant you a share
in my happiness.

I must tell you my idea. I have a shrewd notion that you are hatching
ambitious plans under the name of Louis de l'Estorade. Very good; get
him elected deputy at the approaching election, for he will be very
nearly forty then; and as the Chamber does not meet till six months
later, he will have just attained the age