the wild ardor of love and preserve the charming freshness of purity—­to delight in obeying the equitable law of the most harmonious love by being alternately a slave and a queen; to call upon him who calls upon you; seek him who seeks you; love him who loves you—­in a word, to be the idol of your idol!... it is too much, it surpasses human happiness, it is stealing fire from heaven—­it is, I tell you, incurring the punishment of death!

In my enthusiasm I already stand upon the boundary of the true world—–­ I have a glimpse of paradise; earth recedes from my gaze; I understand and expect death, because life has bid me a last farewell—­the exaltation that I feel belongs to the future of the blessed; it is a triumphant dying—­that final and supremely happy thought that tells me my soul is about to take its flight.

Oh! merciful God! my brain is on fire! and why do I write you these incoherent thoughts!  Valentine, you see all excessive emotions are alike; the delirium of joy resembles the frenzy of despair.  Having attained the summit of happiness, what do we see at our feet?... a yawning abyss!... we have lost the steep path by which we so painfully reached the top; once there, we have no means of gradually descending the declivity ... from so great a height we cannot walk, we fall!

There is but one way of preserving happiness—­abjure it—­never welcome it; sometimes it delights in visiting ungrateful people.  Vainly do I seek to reassure myself by expiation, by sacrifices; during these eight days I have been lavishly giving gold in the neighborhood, I have endowed all the children, fed the poor, enriched the hospitals; I would willingly ruin myself by generous charity, by magnificent donations—­I would cheerfully give my entire fortune to obtain rest and peace for my troubled mind.

Every morning I enter the empty church and fervently pray that God will permit me by some great sacrifice to insure my happiness.  I implore him to inflict upon me hard trials, great humiliations, intense pain, sufferings beyond any strength, but to have mercy upon my poor heart and spare me Raymond ... to leave me a little longer Raymond, ...

Raymond and his love!

But these tears and prayers will be vain—­Raymond himself, without understanding his presentiments, instinctively feels that his end is approaching.  His purity of soul, his magnanimity, the unexampled disinterestedness of his conduct, are indications—­these sublime virtues are symptoms of death—­this generosity, this disinterestedness are tacit adieux.  Raymond possesses none of the weaknesses of men destined for a long life; he has indulged in none of the wicked passions of the age—­he has kept himself apart, observing but not sharing the actions of men.  He regards life as if he were a pilgrim, and takes no part in any of its turmoils—­he has not bargained for any of its disenchantments; his great pride, his life-long, unbending loyalty have concealed a mournful secret; he has stood aloof because he was convinced of his untimely end.  He feels self-reliant because he will only have a short time to struggle; he is joyous and proud, because he looks upon the victory as already won ...  I weep as I admire him.