rth are veiled by poetic grace, and who
charm by some high spiritual power, men made to be adored, beware of
love! Love will ruin you, and ruin the woman of your heart. This is the
burden of my cry as I pace my woodland walks.

And he has left me no child! That love so rich in smiles, which rained
perpetual flowers and joy, has left no fruit. I am a thing accursed. Can
it be that, even as the two extremes of polar ice and torrid sand
are alike intolerant of life, so the very purity and vehemence of a
single-hearted passion render it barren as hate? Is it only a marriage
of reason, such as yours, which is blessed with a family? Can Heaven be
jealous of our passions? There are wild words.

You are, I believe, the one person whose company I could endure. Come to
me, then; none but Renee should be with Louise in her sombre garb.
What a day when I first put on my widow's bonnet! When I saw myself all
arrayed in black, I fell back on a seat and wept till night came; and I
weep again as I recall that moment of anguish.

Good-bye. Writing tires me; thoughts crowd fast, but I have no heart
to put them into words. Bring your children; you can nurse baby here
without making me jealous; all that is gone, _he_ is not here, and I
shall be very glad to see my godson. Felipe used to wish for a child
like little Armand. Come, then, come and help me to bear my woe.

XLVII. RENEE TO LOUISE 1829.

My darling,--When you hold this letter in your hands, I shall be already
near, for I am starting a few minutes after it. We shall be alone
together. Louis is obliged to remain in Provence because of the
approaching elections. He wants to be elected again, and the Liberals
are already plotting against his return.

I don't come to comfort you; I only bring you my heart to beat in
sympathy with yours, and help you to bear with life. I come to bid you
weep, for only with tears can you purchase the joy of meeting him again.
Remember, he is traveling towards Heaven, and every step forward which
you take brings you nearer to him. Every duty done breaks a link in the
chain that keeps you apart.

Louise, in my arms you will once more raise your head and go on your way
to him, pure, noble, washed of all those errors, which had no root in
your heart, and bearing with you the harvest of good deeds which, in his
name, you will accomplish here.

I scribble these hasty lines in all the bustle of preparation, and
interrupted by the babies and by A