upon
me. How beautiful is maternal love! It crushes the loftiest pride, it
overthrows with one cry the most ambitious plans; this haughty woman is
subjugated by grief; she calls me her daughter; she gladly consents to
this marriage which, a short time ago, she said would ruin her son's
prospects, and which she looked upon with horror; she weeps, she
supplicates. This morning she embraced me with every expression of
devotion and cried out: "Give me back my son! Oh, restore to me my
son!... You love him, ... he loves you, ... he is handsome, charming,
talented.... I shall never see him again if you let him go away; tell
him you love him; have you the cruelty to deprive me of my only son?"
What could I say? how could I make an idolizing mother understand that I
did not love her son?... If I had dared to say, "It is not he that I
love, it is another," ... she would have said: "It is false; there is
not a man on earth preferable to my son." She wept over the letter that
Edgar wrote me before leaving. Valentine, this letter was noble and
touching. I could not restrain my own tears when I read it. Finally, I
was forced to yield. I am to accompany Madame de Meilhan to Havre; I
hope we will reach there before the steamer leaves!... Edgar will not go
to America, ... and I!... Oh, why is he the one to love me thus?... She
has come for me! Adieu; write to me, my dear Valentine, ... I am so
miserable. If you were only here! What will become of me? Adieu!

IRENE DE CHATEAUDUN.

XXIX.

IRENE DE CHATEAUDUN _to_ MME. LA VICOMTESSE DE BRAIMES,
Hotel de la Prefecture, Grenoble (Isere).

Paris, Aug. 2d 18--.

It is fortunate for me to-day, my dear Valentine, that I have the
reputation of being a truthful person, professing a hatred of falsehood,
otherwise you would not believe the strange facts that I am about to
relate to you. I now expect to reap the fruits of my unvarying
sincerity. Having always shown such respect for truth, I deserve to be
believed when I assert what appears to be incredible.

What startling events have occurred in a few hours! My destiny has been
changed by my peeping through a hole!! Without one word of comment I
will state exactly what happened, and you must not accuse me of highly
coloring my pictures; they are lively enough in themselves without any
assistance from me. Far from adding to their brilliancy, I shall
endeavor to tone them down and give them an air of probability. We left
Pont de l'Arc