may never say, a look you may never give; but, I cannot help it, I fear them.  I die beloved; there is my consolation.

“I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his friends have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world.  That I might have a station in life, they have bought a dead man, a reputation, a fortune, so that a living man might live again, restored; and all this for you, for us.  We were never to have known of it.  Well, my death will save my father from that falsehood, for he will not survive me.

“Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here.  To show you my love in its agony of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you?  I could never have the strength to speak to you; I have only enough to write.  I have just confessed to God the sins of my life.  I have promised to fill my mind with the King of Heaven only; but I must confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth.  Alas! shall I not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and the life that shall be?  Farewell, my Jules, my loved one!  I go to God, with whom is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow me.  There, before his throne, united forever, we may love each other throughout the ages.  This hope alone can comfort me.  If I am worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through life.  My soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for you must stay here still,—­ah! here below.  Lead a holy life that you may the more surely come to me.  You can do such good upon this earth!  Is it not an angel’s mission for the suffering soul to shed happiness about him,—­to give to others that which he has not?  I bequeath you to the Unhappy.  Their smiles, their tears, are the only ones of which I cannot be jealous.  We shall find a charm in sweet beneficence.  Can we not live together still if you would join my name—­your Clemence—­in these good works?

“After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules.  God does not lie; God never betrays.  Adore him only, I charge you!  Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of his Church.  Farewell, dear soul that I have filled!  I know you; you will never love again.  I may die happy in the thought that makes all women happy.  Yes, my grave will be your heart.  After this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed on within that heart?  Dead, you will never drive me forth.  I am proud of that rare life!  You will know me only in the flower of my youth; I leave you regrets without disillusions.  Jules, it is a happy death.

“You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of you,—­superfluous request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman’s fancy, the prayer of a jealousy we all must feel,—­I pray you to burn all that especially belonged to us, destroy our chamber, annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness.

  “Once more, farewell,—­the last farewell!  It is all love, and so
  will be my parting thought, my parting breath.”