beautiful children playing over my green lawns,
and pressing joyfully around their mother. What exquisite pleasure to be
able to initiate into the mysteries of fortune the sweet and noble being
whom I then believed to be poor and friendless! I would take possession
of her life to make a long fete-day of it. What tender care would I not
bestow upon so dear and charming a destiny! Downy would be her nest,
warm the sun that shone upon her, sweet the perfumes that surrounded
her, soft the breezes that fanned her cheek, green and velvety the turf
under her delicate feet! But a truce to such sweet dreams. I know M. de
Monbert; what I have seen of him is sufficient. M. de Meilhan, too, will
not disappoint me. I shall not conceal myself; in eight days these two
men will have found me. In eight days they will knock at my door, like
two creditors, demanding restitution, one of Louise, the other of Irene.
If I were to descend to justification, even if I were to succeed in
convincing them of my loyalty and uprightness, their despair would cry
out all the louder for vengeance. Then, madame, what shall I do? Shall I
try to take the life of my friends after having robbed them of their
happiness? Let them kill me; I shall be ready; but they shall see upon
my lips, growing cold in death, the triumphant smile of victorious love;
my last sigh, breathing Irene's name, will be a cruel insult to these
unhappy men, who will envy me even in the arms of death.

I neither believe nor desire that Irene should survive me. My soul, in
leaving, will draw hers after it. What would she do here below, without
me? You will see, that feeling herself gently drawn upward, she will
leave a world that I no longer inhabit. I repeat, that I would not have
her live on earth without me. But sorrow does not always kill; youth is
strong, and nature works miracles. I have seen trees, struck by
lightning, still stand erect and put forth new leaves. I have seen
blasted lives drag their weary length to a loveless old age. I have seen
noble hearts severed from their mates, slowly consumed by the weariness
of widowhood and solitude. If we could die when we have lost those we
love, it would be too sweet to love. Jealous of his creature, God does
not always permit it. It is a grace which he accords only to the elect.
If, by a fatality not without precedent, Irene should have the strength
and misfortune to survive me, to you, madame, do I confide her. Care for
her, not wit