I shall return rich, or I shall never return at all.  Only, my dear friend, as I want wealth solely for her, as I must be absent six years at least, and as I will not risk being duped in any way, I confide to you my wife.  I know no better guardian.  Being childless, a lover might be dangerous to her.  Henri!  I love her madly, basely, without proper pride.  I would forgive her, I think, an infidelity, not because I am certain of avenging it, but because I would kill myself to leave her free and happy—­since I could not make her happiness myself.  But what have I to fear?  Natalie feels for me that friendship which is independent of love, but which preserves love.  I have treated her like a petted child.  I took such delight in my sacrifices, one led so naturally to another, that she can never be false; she would be a monster if she were.  Love begets love.

Alas! shall I tell you all, my dear Henri?  I have just written her a letter in which I let her think that I go with heart of hope and brow serene; that neither jealousy, nor doubt, nor fear is in my soul,—­a letter, in short, such as a son might write to his mother, aware that he is going to his death.  Good God! de Marsay, as I wrote it hell was in my soul!  I am the most wretched man on earth.  Yes, yes, to you the cries, to you the grinding of my teeth!  I avow myself to you a despairing lover; I would rather live these six years sweeping the streets beneath her windows than return a millionaire at the end of them—­if I could choose.  I suffer agony; I shall pass from pain to pain until I hear from you that you will take the trust which you alone can fulfil or accomplish.

Oh! my dear de Marsay, this woman is indispensable to my life; she is my sun, my atmosphere.  Take her under your shield and buckler, keep her faithful to me, even if she wills it not.  Yes, I could be satisfied with a half-happiness.  Be her guardian, her chaperon, for I could have no distrust of you.  Prove to her that in betraying me she would do a low and vulgar thing, and be no better than the common run of women; tell her that faithfulness will prove her lofty spirit.

She probably has fortune enough to continue her life of luxury and ease.  But if she lacks a pleasure, if she has caprices which she cannot satisfy, be her banker, and do not fear, I will return with wealth.

But, after all, these fears are in vain!  Natalie is an angel of purity and virtue.  When Felix de Vandenesse fell deeply in love with her and began to show her certain attentions, I had only to let her see the danger, and she instantly thanked me so affectionately that I was moved to tears.  She said that her dignity and reputation demanded that she should not close her doors abruptly to any man, but that she knew well how to dismiss him.  She did, in fact, receive him so coldly that the affair all ended for the best.  We have never had any