ER II. THE SOUL IN AGONY. TO MONSIEUR CLAUDE DE L--------

Seminary of P------sur-C-------

(Haute-Saone).

It affords me unspeakable pleasure to sit down to address you, dear
Claude. Must I tell you that I can not think without pious emotion of
that life which but yesterday we were leading together at the Jesuits'
College. How well I remember our long talks under the great trees, the
pious pilgrimages we daily made to the Father Superior's Calvary, our
charming readings, the darting forth of our two souls toward the eternal
source of all greatness and all goodness. I can still see the little
chapel which you fitted up one day in your desk, the pretty wax tapers
we made for it, which we lighted one day during the cosmography class.

Oh, sweet recollections, how dear you are to me! Charming details of
a calm and holy life, with what happiness do I recall you! Time
in separating you from me seems only to have brought you nearer in
recollection. I have seen life, alas! during these six long months, but,
in acquiring a knowledge of the world, I have learned to love still more
the innocent ignorance of my past existence. Wiser than myself, you
have remained in the service of the Lord; you have understood the divine
mission which had been reserved for you; you have been unwilling to step
over the profane threshold and to enter the world, that cavern, I ought
to say, in which I am now assailed, tossed about like a frail bark
during a tempest. Nay, the anger of the waves of the sea compared
to that of the passions is mere child's play. Happy friend, who art
ignorant of what I have learned. Happy friend, whose eyes have not yet
measured the abyss into which mine are already sunk.

But what was I to do? Was I not obliged--despite my vocation and the
tender friendship which called me to your side--was I not obliged, I
say, to submit to the exigencies imposed by the name I bear, and also to
the will of my father, who destined me for a military career in order to
defend a noble cause which you too would defend? In short, I obeyed and
quitted the college of the Fathers never to return again.

I went into the world, my heart charged with the salutary fears which
our pious education had caused to grow up there. I advanced cautiously,
but very soon recoiled horror-stricken. I am eighteen; I am still young,
I know, but I have already reflected much, while the experience of my
pious instructors has imparted to my