he the other day with sad and anxious hearts; during the
journey Mad. de Meilhan, as if doubting the strength of my resolution
and the ardor of my devotion, dilated enthusiastically upon the merits
of her son. She boasted of his generosity, of his disinterestedness and
sincerity; she mentioned the names of several wealthy young ladies whom
he had refused to marry during the last two or three years. She spoke of
his great success as a poet and a brilliant man. She impressed upon me
that a noble love could exercise such a happy influence upon his genius,
and said it was in my power to make him a good and happy man for life,
by accepting this love, which she described to me in such touching
language, that I felt moved and impressed, if not with love, at least
with tender appreciation. She said Edgar had never loved any one as he
had loved me--this passion had changed all his ideas--he lived for me
alone. To indure him to listen to any one it was necessary to bring my
name in the conversation so as to secure his ear; he spent his days and
nights composing poems in my honor. He should have returned to Paris in
response to the beautiful Marquise de R.'s sighs and smiles, but he
never had the courage to leave me; for me he had pitilessly sacrificed
this woman, who was lovely, witty and the reigning belle of Paris. She
mournfully told me of the wild foolish things he would do upon his
return to Richeport, after having made fruitless attempts to see me at
Pont de l'Arche; his cruelty to his favorite horse, his violence against
the flowers along the path, that he would cut to pieces with his whip;
his sullen, mute despair; his extravagant talk to her; her own
uneasiness; her useless prayers; and finally this fatal departure that
she had vainly endeavored to prevent. She saw that I was affected by
what she said, she seized my hand and called down blessing's upon me,
thanking me a thousand times passionately and imperiously, as if to
compel me to accede to her wishes.

I sorrowfully reflected upon all this trouble that I had caused, and was
frightened at the conviction that I had by a few engaging smiles and a
little harmless coquetry inspired so violent a passion. Thinking thus, I
did justice to Edgar, and acknowledged that some reparation was due to
him. He must have taken all these deceptive smiles to himself; when I
first arrived at Pont de l'Arche, I had no scruples about being
attractive, I expected to leave in a few days neve