e known Rose for
hardly three months; her picture is still vernal in my heart; nothing
can prevent its colours from being radiant with freshness, radiant with
vigour, radiant with sunshine. I shall therefore go away without regret.
I see the childishness of all the experiments to which I am subjecting
the girl so as to know her a little better. My interest throws such a
light upon her that she cannot, do what she will, shrink back into the
shade.

She is to me the incarnation of one of my most cherished ideas. Until I
know all, I shall suspend my judgment and my intentions will not change.
I believe that every seed in the rich soil of a noble heart has to
fulfil its tender, gracious work of love and kindness.

I cannot, therefore, lay upon Rose the burden of my disappointment last
night; and my affection suggests a thousand good reasons for absolving
her. Is this wrong? And are we to consider, with the sapient ones of
the earth, that our vision is never clear until the day when we no
longer have the strength to love, believe and admire? I do not think so.
Setting aside the careful judgment which we exercise in the case of our
companion for life, it is certain that our opinions on the others, on
our chance acquaintances, are but an illusion and owe far more to our
souls than to theirs. In our brief and crowded lives, we have barely
time to catch a note of beauty here, to perceive a sign of truth there.
If, therefore, we have to pass days and years without understanding
everything and loving everything, if we have to remain under a
misapprehension, why not choose that which is on the side of love and
gladdens our hearts?

We should take care of the images that adorn our soul. Our women's minds
would possess more graciousness if we bestowed upon them a little of the
attention which we lavish on our bodies.

My beautiful Rose is kind and loving; I will deck her with my hopes as
long as I can. When enthusiasm is shared, it is easy to keep it up. It
weighs lightly in spite of its infinite preciousness. If I ever find it
a strain, the reason will be that Rose did not really bear her share of
it. It will become a burden and I shall relinquish it. All that she
will have of me will be the careless charity bestowed upon the poor.

2

"Paris, ... 19--

"If you knew, Rose, how I miss the lovely autumn landscapes! The weather
was so bright on the day of my departure that, to enjoy it to the full,
I bicycled to the railway-