My love would never have followed the fatal law of common-place affection; years would never have withered it in their passage.  But what signifies its duration, if we can crowd eternity into an hour?  What signifies the number of days if the days are full?

Nevertheless, I cannot refrain from regretting an existence which promises so much beauty.  We would have been very happy in my little chateau on the Creuse.  I was born for fireside joys, the delights of home.  I already saw my beautiful children playing over my green lawns, and pressing joyfully around their mother.  What exquisite pleasure to be able to initiate into the mysteries of fortune the sweet and noble being whom I then believed to be poor and friendless!  I would take possession of her life to make a long fete-day of it.  What tender care would I not bestow upon so dear and charming a destiny!  Downy would be her nest, warm the sun that shone upon her, sweet the perfumes that surrounded her, soft the breezes that fanned her cheek, green and velvety the turf under her delicate feet!  But a truce to such sweet dreams.  I know M. de Monbert; what I have seen of him is sufficient.  M. de Meilhan, too, will not disappoint me.  I shall not conceal myself; in eight days these two men will have found me.  In eight days they will knock at my door, like two creditors, demanding restitution, one of Louise, the other of Irene.  If I were to descend to justification, even if I were to succeed in convincing them of my loyalty and uprightness, their despair would cry out all the louder for vengeance.  Then, madame, what shall I do?  Shall I try to take the life of my friends after having robbed them of their happiness?  Let them kill me; I shall be ready; but they shall see upon my lips, growing cold in death, the triumphant smile of victorious love; my last sigh, breathing Irene’s name, will be a cruel insult to these unhappy men, who will envy me even in the arms of death.

I neither believe nor desire that Irene should survive me.  My soul, in leaving, will draw hers after it.  What would she do here below, without me?  You will see, that feeling herself gently drawn upward, she will leave a world that I no longer inhabit.  I repeat, that I would not have her live on earth without me.  But sorrow does not always kill; youth is strong, and nature works miracles.  I have seen trees, struck by lightning, still stand erect and put forth new leaves.  I have seen blasted lives drag their weary length to a loveless old age.  I have seen noble hearts severed from their mates, slowly consumed by the weariness of widowhood and solitude.  If we could die when we have lost those we love, it would be too sweet to love.  Jealous of his creature, God does not always permit it.  It is a grace which he accords only to the elect.  If, by a fatality not without precedent, Irene should have the strength and misfortune to survive me, to you, madame, do I confide her.  Care for her, not with the hope of consoling her, but to banish all