TO JULIE

Have no fear for me, dearest Julie.  Read this, and I am sure that you will share in my feelings of gratitude and affection towards the man with whom I have quarrelled.

This morning mylord Edouard entered my room, accompanied by two gentlemen.  “I have come,” he said, “to withdraw the injurious words that intoxication led me to utter in your presence.  Pardon me, and restore to me your friendship.  I am ready to endure any chastisement that you see fit to inflict upon me.”

“Mylord,” I replied, “I acknowledge your nobility of spirit.  The words you uttered when you were not yourself are henceforth utterly forgotten.”  I embraced him, and he bade the gentlemen withdraw.

When we were alone, he gave me the warmest testimonies of friendship; and, touched by his generosity, I told him the whole story of our love.  He promised enthusiastically to do what he could to further our happiness; and this is the nobler in him, inasmuch as he admitted that he had himself conceived a tender admiration for you.

FROM JULIE

Dearest, the worst has happened.  My father knows of our love.  He came to me yesterday pale with fury; in his wrath he struck me.  Then, suddenly, he took me in his arms and implored my forgiveness.  But I know that he will never consent to our union; I shall never dare to mention your name in his presence.  My love for you is unalterable; our souls are linked by bonds that time cannot dissolve.  And yet—­my duty to my parents!  How can I do right by wronging them?  Oh, pity my distraction!

It seems that mylord Edouard impulsively asked my father for his consent to our union, telling him how deeply we loved each other, and that he would mortally injure his daughter’s happiness if he denied her wishes.  My father replied, in bitter anger, that he would never suffer his child to be united to a man of humble birth.  Mylord Edouard hotly retorted that mere distinctions of birth were worthless when weighed in the scale with true refinement and true virtue.  They had a long and violent argument, and parted in enmity.

I must take counsel with Cousin Claire, who never suffers her reason to be clouded with those heart-torments of which I am the unhappy victim.

FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE

On learning of your distress, dear cousin, I made up my mind that your lover must go away, for your sake and his own; I summoned M. d’Orbe and mylord Edouard.  I told M. d’Orbe that the success of his suit to me depended on his help to you.  You know that my friendship for you is greater than any love can be.  Mylord Edouard acted splendidly.  He promised to endow your lover with a third of his estate, and to take him to Paris and London, there to win the distinction that his talents deserve.