who dilates on the beauty and cleverness of his (of course) quite exceptional offspring.  But the refrain of my letter, darling, is this, and I repeat it:  I am as happy now as I used to be miserable.  This grange—­and is it not going to be an estate, a family property?—­has become my land of promise.  The desert is past and over.  A thousand loves, darling pet.  Write to me, for now I can read without a tear the tale of your happy love.  Farewell.

XXXII

MME. DE MACUMER TO MME. DE L’ESTORADE
March 1826.

Do you know, dear, that it is more than three months since I have written to you or heard from you?  I am the more guilty of the two, for I did not reply to your last, but you don’t stand on punctilio surely?

Macumer and I have taken your silence for consent as regards the baby-wreathed luncheon service, and the little cherubs are starting this morning for Marseilles.  It took six months to carry out the design.  And so when Felipe asked me to come and see the service before it was packed, I suddenly waked up to the fact that we had not interchanged a word since the letter of yours which gave me an insight into a mother’s heart.

My sweet, it is this terrible Paris—­there’s my excuse.  What, pray, is yours?  Oh! what a whirlpool is society!  Didn’t I tell you once that in Paris one must be as the Parisians?  Society there drives out all sentiment; it lays en embargo on your time; and unless you are very careful, soon eats away your heart altogether.  What an amazing masterpiece is the character of Celimene in Moliere’s Le Misanthrope!  She is the society woman, not only of Louis XIV.’s time, but of our own, and of all, time.

Where should I be but for my breastplate—­the love I bear Felipe?  This very morning I told him, as the outcome of these reflections, that he was my salvation.  If my evenings are a continuous round of parties, balls, concerts, and theatres, at night my heart expands again, and is healed of the wounds received in the world by the delights of the passionate love which await my return.

I dine at home only when we have friends, so-called, with us, and spend the afternoon there only on my day, for I have a day now —­Wednesday—­for receiving.  I have entered the lists with Mmes. d’Espard and de Maufrigneuse, and with the old Duchesse de Lenoncourt, and my house has the reputation of being a very lively one.  I allowed myself to become the fashion, because I saw how much pleasure my success gave Felipe.  My mornings are his; from four in the afternoon till two in the morning I belong to Paris.  Macumer makes an admirable host, witty and dignified, perfect in courtesy, and with an air of real distinction.  No woman could help loving such a husband even if she had chosen him without consulting her heart.

My father and mother have left for Madrid.  Louis XVIII. being out of the way, the Duchess had no difficulty in obtaining from our good-natured Charles X. the appointment of her fascinating poet; so he is carried off in the capacity of attache.