e no sense of
inferiority. There is a wonderful sweetness in these hidden sacrifices,
and what a triumph for me in your unsuspecting praises of Louis! There
can be no doubt also that the happiness, the comfort, the hope of the
last two years have restored what misfortune, hardship, solitude, and
despondency has robbed him of.

This, then, is the sum-total of my observations. At the present moment
you love in Felipe, not your husband, but yourself. There is truth in
your father's words; concealed by the spring-flowers of your passion
lies all the great lady's selfishness. Ah! my child, how I must love you
to speak such bitter truths!

Let me tell you, if you will promise never to breathe a word of this
to the Baron, the end of our talk. We had been singing your praises
in every key, for he soon discovered that I loved you like a
fondly-cherished sister, and having insensibly brought him to a
confidential mood, I ventured to say:

"Louise has never yet had to struggle with life. She has been the spoilt
child of fortune, and she might yet have to pay for this were you not
there to act the part of father as well as lover."

"Ah! but is it possible?..." He broke off abruptly, like a man who sees
himself on the edge of a precipice. But the exclamation was enough for
me. No doubt, if you had stayed, he would have spoken more freely later.

My sweet, think of the day awaiting you when your husband's strength
will be exhausted, when pleasure will have turned to satiety, and he
sees himself, I will not say degraded, but shorn of his proper dignity
before you. The stings of conscience will then waken a sort of remorse
in him, all the more painful for you, because you will feel yourself
responsible, and you will end by despising the man whom you have not
accustomed yourself to respect. Remember, too, that scorn with a woman
is only the earliest phase of hatred. You are too noble and generous, I
know, ever to forget the sacrifices which Felipe has made for you; but
what further sacrifices will be left for him to make when he has, so to
speak, served up himself at the first banquet? Woe to the man, as to
the woman, who has left no desire unsatisfied! All is over then. To our
shame or our glory--the point is too nice for me to decide--it is of
love alone that women are insatiable.

Oh! Louise, change yet, while there is still time. If you would only
adopt the same course with Macumer that I have done with l'Estorade, you
might