old silver dishes, blackened and battered. The exile, my
darling pet, is like the railing, emaciated! He is pale and silent, and
bears traces of suffering. At thirty-seven he might be fifty. The once
beautiful ebon locks of youth are streaked with white like a lark's
wing. His fine blue eyes are cavernous; he is a little deaf, which
suggests the Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance.

Spite of all this, I have graciously consented to become Mme. de
l'Estorade and to receive a dowry of two hundred and fifty thousand
livres, but only on the express condition of being allowed to work my
will upon the grange and make a park there. I have demanded from my
father, in set terms, a grant of water, which can be brought thither
from Maucombe. In a month I shall be Mme. de l'Estorade; for, dear, I
have made a good impression. After the snows of Siberia a man is ready
enough to see merit in those black eyes, which according to you, used to
ripen fruit with a look. Louis de l'Estorade seems well content to marry
the _fair Renee de Maucombe_--such is your friend's splendid title.

Whilst you are preparing to reap the joys of that many-sided existence
which awaits a young lady of the Chaulieu family, and to queen it in
Paris, your poor little sweetheart, Renee, that child of the desert,
has fallen from the empyrean, whither together we had soared, into
the vulgar realities of a life as homely as a daisy's. I have vowed to
myself to comfort this young man, who has never known youth, but passed
straight from his mother's arms to the embrace of war, and from the joys
of his country home to the frosts and forced labor of Siberia.

Humble country pleasures will enliven the monotony of my future. It
shall be my ambition to enlarge the oasis round my house, and to give
it the lordly shade of fine trees. My turf, though Provencal, shall be
always green. I shall carry my park up the hillside and plant on the
highest point some pretty kiosque, whence, perhaps, my eyes may catch
the shimmer of the Mediterranean. Orange and lemon trees, and all
choicest things that grow, shall embellish my retreat; and there will I
be a mother among my children. The poetry of Nature, which nothing can
destroy, shall hedge us round; and standing loyally at the post of
duty, we need fear no danger. My religious feelings are shared by my
father-in-law and by the Chevalier.

Ah! darling, my life unrolls itself before my eyes like one of the great
highways of France