I frankly confess that if I had been married, if I had no longer control of my actions, I should have thought I was in love with Edgar....  I should have mistaken for an odious and culpable passion, the fearful trouble, insupportable uneasiness that his love caused me to feel.  But my vigilant reason, my implacable good faith watched over my heart; they said:  “Shun Roger;” they said:  “Fear Edgar....”  If I had married Roger, woe to me!  Conventional love, leaving my heart all its dreams, would have embittered my life....  But if, more foolish still, I had married Edgar, woe, woe to me! because one does not sacrifice with impunity to an incomplete love all of one’s theories, habits and even weaknesses and early prejudices.

What enlightened me quickly upon the unreality of this love was the liberty of my position.  Why being free should I fear a legitimate love?  Strange mystery! wonderful instinct!  With Roger, I sadly said to myself:  “I love him, but it is not with love.” ...  With Edgar, I said in fright:  “This is love, yet I do not love him.”  And then when Raymond appeared, my heart, my reason, my faith at the first glance recognised him, and without hesitation, almost without prudence, I cried out, “It is he....  I love him.” ...  Now this is what I call real love, ideal love, harmony of ideas and sympathy of hearts.

Oh! it does me good to be a little pedantic; I am so excited, it calms me; I am not so afraid of going crazy when I adopt the sententious manner.  Ah! when I can laugh I am happy.  Anything that for a moment checks my wild imagination, reassures me.

This morning we laughed like two children!  You will laugh too; when I write one name it will set you off; he said to me, “I must go to my coachmaker’s and see if my travelling carriage needs any repairs.”  I said, “I have a new one; I will send for it, and let you see it.”  In an hour my carriage was brought into the court-yard.  With peals of laughter he recognised Lady Penock’s carriage.  “Lady Penock!  What! do you know Lady Penock?  Are you the audacious young lover who pursued her until she was compelled to sell me her carriage.”  “Yes, I was the man.”  Ah! how gay we were; he was the hero of Lady Penock, his was the little light, he was the wounded man, he was the husband selected for me!  Ah! it all makes me dizzy; and we shall set off to travel in this carriage.

Ah!  Lady Penock, you must pardon him.

IRENE DE CHATEAUDUN.

XXXIII.

EDGAR DE MEILHAN to the PRINCE DE MONBERT,
Porte Restante (Rouen).

PARIS, Aug. 11th 18—.