If it be objected that young, handsome, sensible, sensitive, and surrounded by temptations, M. de Morville must have been another Scipio, to devote himself to an impossible love, after having remained so long faithful to the memory of a beloved woman, we reply that if these instances of phenomenal constancy are sometimes met with, it is particularly amongst young, handsome, sensible, sensitive men, surrounded by temptations. They have had success enough not to be faithless from false shame or to add from vanity one unit more to the amount of their successes in affairs of the heart.
Then the very facility of the triumphs to which they might pretend keeps them from seeking them. In truth, without being absolutely satiated with pleasures, their first excitement having long abated, they become chary of the more sensitive enjoyments, and feel happy in consecrating to them the greater portion of their existence.
They do not require a prosperous love in order thus to exercise their more delicate faculties, but find a soft and saddened charm in the incessant regrets, which arise from a beloved remembrance,—in the tender anguish of a hapless love. In fact they comprehend the ineffable pleasure of melancholy, the refinements of pure and elevated passions.
Men less finely endued, less accustomed to success, are faithful or disinterested in love, from sheer necessity.
Persons like De Morville are so, if we may be allowed the expression, from luxury.
It is because it depends on themselves alone to have, that they find a kind of noble abstinence in not having. And then, indeed (we desire at all risks to excuse the constancy and resignation of our hero), certain dainty tastes know how from time to time to refresh, revivify the sensitiveness of their taste by a discreet abstinence. Having said thus much, and having (at least we hope so) exculpated De Morville from the ridicule inherent in the position of a faithful or unhappy lover, we will give our readers some additional information.
About eight days after his interview with Madame de Hansfeld, De Morville received by post the following letter in an unknown hand:—
"The step now taken with you is strange and foolish; you may perceive in it a reproach, a jest, or a caprice; you may reply to it by silence, by satire, or by disdain; you will not be reproached: there are a thousand reasons, why this step, notwithstanding it is as serious, as solemn as any thing can be in this world, may seem to you ridiculous or unworthy of your attention, still a whole existence is staked, in the hope (almost insane) that the instinct of your heart will reveal to you all that is sincere and serious in the question now asked,—Is your heart free?
"It is known that a cherished remembrance filled it for nearly two years; but we are not now referring to the past, we are addressing your well-known honour and frankness. Can you respond to a deep-felt love long cherished in silence and in mystery; a passionate love that you alone can inspire and justify?
"Reply—will you have this love?