, and during this
truce I have played the role of suitor. Either of these conjectures is
probable--both may be true--one is sufficient to bring about a
catastrophe!

This fact is certain, the handsome Leon is at the waters of Ems enjoying
his expiring hours of single-blessedness in the society of his painted
friend, and his family are keeping Mile. de Chateaudun at the Chateau de
Lorgeville till the season at Ems is over. In a few days the handsome
Leon, on pretence of important business, will leave his Dulcinea, and,
considering himself freed from an unlawful yoke, will come to the
Chateau de Lorgeville to offer his innocent hand and pure homage to
Mile. de Chateaudun. In whatever light the matter is viewed, I am a
dupe--a butt! I know well that people say: "_Prince Roger is a good
fellow_" With this reputation a man is exposed to all the feline
wickedness of human nature, but when once aroused "the good fellow" is
transformed, and all turn pale in his presence.

No, I can never forgive a woman who holds before me a picture of bliss,
and then dashes it to the ground--she owes me this promised happiness,
and if she tries to fly from me I have a right to cry "stop thief."

Ah! Mlle. de Chateaudun, you thought you could break my heart, and leave
me nothing to cherish but the phantom of memory! Well! I promise you
another ending to your play than you looked for! We will meet again!

Stupid idiot that I was, to think of writing her an apology to vindicate
my innocent share of the scene at the Odeon! Vindication well spared!
How she would have laughed at my honest candor!... She shall not have an
opportunity of laughing! Dear Edgar, in writing these disconsolate lines
I have lost the calmness that I had imposed upon myself when I began my
letter. I feel that I am devoured by that internal demon that bears a
woman's name in the language of love--jealousy! Yes, jealousy fills my
soul with bitterness, encircles my brow with a band of iron, and makes
me feel a frenzied desire to murder some fellow-being! During my travels
I lost the tolerant manners of civilization. I have imbibed the rude
cruelty of savages--my jealousy is filled with the storms and fire of
the equator.

What do you pale effeminate young men know of jealousy? Is not your
professor of jealousy the actor who dashes about on the stage with a
paste-board sword?

I have studied the monster under other masters; tigers have taught me
how to manage this passion.