to Poland, and Balzac went to her
at once. There was another long delay, and for more than a year he
lived as a guest in the countess's mansion at Wierzchownia; but
finally, in March, 1850, the two were married. A few weeks later they
came back to France together, and occupied the little country house,
Les Jardies, in which, some decades later, occurred Gambetta's
mysterious death.

What is the secret of this strange love, which in the woman seems to be
not precisely love, but something else? Balzac was always eager for her
presence. She, on the other hand, seems to have been mentally more at
ease when he was absent. Perhaps the explanation, if we may venture
upon one, is based upon a well-known physiological fact.

Love in its completeness is made up of two great elements--first, the
element that is wholly spiritual, that is capable of sympathy, and
tenderness, and deep emotion. The other element is the physical, the
source of passion, of creative energy, and of the truly virile
qualities, whether it be in man or woman. Now, let either of these
elements be lacking, and love itself cannot fully and utterly exist.
The spiritual nature in one may find its mate in the spiritual nature
of another; and the physical nature of one may find its mate in the
physical nature of another. But into unions such as these, love does
not enter in its completeness. If there is any element lacking in
either of those who think that they can mate, their mating will be a
sad and pitiful failure.

It is evident enough that Mme. Hanska was almost wholly spiritual, and
her long years of waiting had made her understand the difference
between Balzac and herself. Therefore, she shrank from his proximity,
and from his physical contact, and it was perhaps better for them both
that their union was so quickly broken off by death; for the great
novelist died of heart disease only five months after the marriage.

If we wish to understand the mystery of Balzac's life--or, more truly,
the mystery of the life of the woman whom he married--take up and read
once more the pages of Seraphita, one of his poorest novels and yet a
singularly illuminating story, shedding light upon a secret of the soul.

CHARLES READE AND LAURA SEYMOUR

The instances of distinguished men, or of notable women, who have
broken through convention in order to find a fitting mate, are very
numerous. A few of these instances may, perhaps, represent what is
usually called a