a meaning, for it seems to be part of a natural process and to
be common to most women, sometimes going to most extravagant lengths.

When my situation is more marked, I shall not go beyond the grounds,
for I should not like to be seen under these circumstances. I have
the greatest curiosity to know at what precise moment the sense of
motherhood begins. It cannot possibly be in the midst of frightful
suffering, the very thought of which makes me shudder.

Farewell, favorite of fortune! Farewell, my friend, in whom I live
again, and through whom I am able to picture to myself this brave love,
this jealousy all on fire at a look, these whisperings in the ear,
these joys which create for women, as it were, a new atmosphere, a new
daylight, fresh life! Ah! pet, I too understand love. Don't weary of
telling me everything. Keep faithful to our bond. I promise, in my turn,
to spare you nothing.

Nay--to conclude in all seriousness--I will not conceal from you that,
on reading your letter a second time, I was seized with a dread which
I could not shake off. This superb love seems like a challenge to
Providence. Will not the sovereign master of this earth, Calamity, take
umbrage if no place be left for him at your feast? What mighty edifice
of fortune has he not overthrown? Oh! Louise, forget not, in all this
happiness, your prayers to God. Do good, be kind and merciful; let your
moderation, if it may be, avert disaster. Religion has meant much more
to me since I left the convent and since my marriage; but your Paris
news contains no mention of it. In your glorification of Felipe it seems
to me you reverse the saying, and invoke God less than His saint.

But, after all, this panic is only excess of affection. You go to church
together, I do not doubt, and do good in secret. The close of this
letter will seem to you very primitive, I expect, but think of the too
eager friendship which prompts these fears--a friendship of the type
of La Fontaine's, which takes alarms at dreams, at half-formed, misty
ideas. You deserve to be happy, since, through it all, you still think
of me, no less than I think of you, in my monotonous life, which, though
it lacks color, is yet not empty, and, if uneventful, is not unfruitful.
God bless you, then!

XXIX. M. DE L'ESTORADE TO THE BARONNE DE MACUMER December 1825.

Madame,--It is the desire of my wife that you should not learn first
from the formal announcement of an event which has fil