m my darling. The man
has lived long enough upon whom she has bestowed her love for one single
day. Do not write, it is too late; but admire the decrees of fate. The
diamond that I had sought with the Prince de Monbert, I have unwittingly
found; I assisted in searching for it, while it was hid, unknown to me,
in my heart. Louise is Irene. Madame Guerin is Mademoiselle de
Chateaudun. If you could have seen her delight in revealing her
identity! I saw her joyful and triumphant as if her love were not the
most precious gift she could bestow. When she proclaimed herself, I felt
an icy chill pass through me; but I thanked God for the bliss which I
shall not survive, so great that death must follow after.

"Do you not love me well enough," she said, "to pardon me my fortune?"

How was she to know that in revealing herself she had signed my
death-warrant?

She spoke, laughingly, of M. de Monbert, as she had done of Edgar; to
excuse herself she related a story of disenchantment which you already
know, madame. It would have been honorable in me, at this juncture, to
have undeceived Irene and enlightened her upon the Prince's passion. I
did so, but feebly. When happiness is offered us loaded with ball, we
have no longer the right to be generous.

We are to be married privately to-morrow, without noise or display. A
plain-looking carriage will wait for us on the Place de la Madeleine;
immediately on leaving the church we shall set out for Villiers. M. de
Meilhan is at Richeport. M. de Monbert is in Brittany. Eight days must
elapse before the news can reach them. Thus I have before me eight days
of holy intoxication. What man has ever been able to say as much?

Recall to mind the words of one of your poet friends; It is better to
die young and restore to God, your judge, a heart pure and full of
illusions. Your poet is right; only it is more ecstatic to die in the
arms of happiness, and to be buried with the flower of a love which has
not yet faded.

My love would never have followed the fatal law of common-place
affection; years would never have withered it in their passage. But what
signifies its duration, if we can crowd eternity into an hour? What
signifies the number of days if the days are full?

Nevertheless, I cannot refrain from regretting an existence which
promises so much beauty. We would have been very happy in my little
chateau on the Creuse. I was born for fireside joys, the delights of
home. I already saw my