On her departure for Italy, Ernestine had promised her mother to write every day a sort of diary of her journey. This promise the girl had kept until the sorrowful days that immediately followed her father's fatal accident, and the even more terrible days that followed the news of the Comtesse de Beaumesnil's death; and now that she had rallied a little from these crushing blows, Ernestine found a sort of pious consolation in continuing to write to her mother every day, keeping up the both pleasant and cruel illusion by continuing these confidential revelations.
The first part of this book contained copies of the letters Ernestine had written to her mother while that lady was living.
The second part, separated from the first by a black cross, contained the letters which the poor child had, alas! had no need to recopy.
Mlle. de Beaumesnil seated herself at the table, and, after she had wiped away the tears which the sight of this book always evoked, she wrote as follows:
"I have not written to you, my darling mamma, since my arrival at M. de la Rochaiguë's house, because I wished to analyse my first impressions carefully.
"Besides, you know how peculiar I am, and how, whenever I go to a strange place now, I find myself almost dazed for a day or two by the change. It seems as if I must have time to become accustomed to the new objects by which I am surrounded, to recover my mental faculties.
"The apartments set aside for my exclusive use are so magnificent and so spacious that I felt lost in them yesterday, but to-day I am becoming more accustomed to them.
"Madame de la Rochaiguë and her husband and sister have welcomed me as if I were their own child. They lavish every attention and kindness upon me, and if one could have any feeling save gratitude, for such a cordial reception, I should feel amazed that persons so much older than I am, should treat me with so much deference.
"M. de la Rochaiguë, my guardian, is kindness itself. His wife, who quite spoils me by her tenderness, is of a very gay and lively disposition. Mlle. Helena, her sister-in-law, is the gentlest and most saintly person imaginable.
"You see, my dearest mother, that you need feel no anxiety concerning your poor Ernestine's lot. Surrounded by such devoted friends, she is as happy as she can be, now.