From the letters, which reveal so strikingly the ungentlewomanlikeness (not merely in a conventional sense) of her manners and her numerous and curious intimacies with men of all ages, more especially with young men, I shall now cull a few characteristic passages in proof of what I have said.

One must have a passion in life.  I feel ennui for the want of one.  The agitated and often even rather needy life I am leading here drives spleen far away.  I am very well, and you will see me in the best of humours. [To her friend A. M. Duteil.  Paris, February 15, 1831.]

   I have an object, a task, let me say the word, a passion.  The
   profession of writing is a violent and almost indestructible
   one. [To Jules Boucoiran.  Paris, March 4, 1831.]

   I cannot bear the shadow of a constraint, this is my
   principal fault.  Everything that is imposed upon me as a duty
   becomes hateful to me.

After saying that she leaves her husband full liberty to do what he likes—­“qu’il a des maitresses ou n’en a pas, suivant son appetit,”—­and speaking highly of his management of their affairs, she writes in the same letter as follows:—­

Moreover, it is only just that this great liberty which my husband enjoys should be reciprocal; otherwise, he would become to me odious and contemptible; that is what he does not wish to be.  I am therefore quite independent; I go to bed when he rises, I go to La Chatre or to Rome, I come in at midnight or at six o’clock; all this is my business.  Those who do not approve of this, and disparage me to you, judge them with your reason and your mother’s heart; the one and the other ought to be with me. [To her mother.  Nohant, May 31, 1831.]

Marriage is a state so contrary to every kind of union and happiness that I have good reason to fear for you. [To Jules Boucoiran, who had thoughts of getting married.  Paris, March 6, 1833.]

You load me with very heavy reproaches, my dear child...you reproach me with my numerous liaisons, my frivolous friendships.  I never undertake to clear myself from the accusations which bear on my character.  I can explain facts and actions; but never defects of the mind or perversities of the heart. [To Jules Boucoiran.  Paris, January 18, 1833.]

   Thou hast pardoned me when I committed follies which the
   world calls faults. [To her friend Charles Duvernet.  Paris,
   October 15, 1834.]

But I claim to possess, now and for ever, the proud and entire independence which you believe you alone have the right to enjoy.  I shall not advise it to everyone; but I shall not suffer that, so far as I am concerned, any love whatever shall in the least fetter it.  I hope to make my conditions so hard and so clear that no man will be bold and vile enough to accept them. [To her friend Adolphe Gueroult.  Paris, May 6, 1835.]