a copy--for you, mademoiselle,"
said the Consul, addressing Camille, "know all the resources of art, the
tricks of style, and the efforts made in their compositions by writers
who do not lack skill; but you will acknowledge that literature could
never find such language in its assumed pathos; there is nothing so
terrible as truth. Here is the letter written by this woman, or rather
by this anguish:--

"'MONSIEUR MAURICE,--

"'I know all your uncle would say to me; he is not better informed than
my own conscience. Conscience is the interpreter of God to man. I know
that if I am not reconciled to Octave, I shall be damned; that is the
sentence of religious law. Civil law condemns me to obey, cost what it
may. If my husband does not reject me, the world will regard me as pure,
as virtuous, whatever I may have done. Yes, that much is sublime in
marriage; society ratifies the husband's forgiveness; but it forgets
that the forgiveness must be accepted. Legally, religiously, and from
the world's point of view I ought to go back to Octave. Keeping only
to the human aspect of the question, is it not cruel to refuse him
happiness, to deprive him of children, to wipe his name out of the
Golden Book and the list of peers? My sufferings, my repugnance, my
feelings, all my egoism--for I know that I am an egoist--ought to be
sacrificed to the family. I shall be a mother; the caresses of my child
will wipe away many tears! I shall be very happy; I certainly shall
be much looked up to. I shall ride, haughty and wealthy, in a handsome
carriage! I shall have servants and a fine house, and be the queen of as
many parties as there are weeks in the year. The world will receive
me handsomely. I shall not have to climb up again to the heaven of
aristocracy, I shall never have come down from it. So God, the law,
society are all in accord.

"'"What are you rebelling against?" I am asked from the height of
heaven, from the pulpit, from the judge's bench, and from the throne,
whose august intervention may at need be invoked by the Count. Your
uncle, indeed, at need, would speak to me of a certain celestial grace
which will flood my heart when I know the pleasure of doing my duty.

"'God, the law, the world, and Octave all wish me to live, no doubt.
Well, if there is no other difficulty, my reply cuts the knot: I will
not live. I will become white and innocent again; for I will lie in my
shroud, white with the blameless pallor of death. This is