"Madame:
"When you receive this letter I shall have left for a far distant country, where no one can follow me and from which I shall never return. That is my excuse for addressing you, and it is—believe me—your obligation to read this letter in its entirety.
"As a result of living in England, I have acquired the habit of candor. I therefore did not want an intermediary between us, for fear of wounding you. The circumstances in which we find ourselves are beyond the pettiness of delicacy, and demand courage, above all things. I must have more than you. If I speak to you of certain things of the past, it is that they may be useful to you in the future. If you have to make a decision, you must be informed.
"I can do nothing more for his happiness, and you, you can do much. That is the whole truth, and the truth must inspire us. I loved him before you did, and more than any other woman has ever loved him. That is the pride I shall take with me to the end of the world. He was my sole thought. When I met him after ten years' absence, I hoped at first to make a loyal friendship of this unusual love. But you did not welcome me kindly, and he himself did not help me. It is so difficult, especially in France, to fathom and to govern these affairs of the heart. After your departure from Paris, I awaited your return. You did not come back, and I believed you and he were finally separated. He was unhappy, and on my account. What could I do, since I loved him? In England we weigh our resolutions for a long time, and then our decision is final. With you, uncertainty may last for a lifetime.
"I was resigned to being socially ostracized. His social convictions, your children, my family traditions, the lack of a religious belief which I had lost, all united to keep us from a legal union. In my own conscience, I was his wife, the true companion of his heart and mind: little else mattered to me, but to live in harmony with him. Last autumn I knew that even his happiness was threatened. It was some days before his mother's death: he had met his children on a path in the country of his own childhood. The children: I did not understand the power of that tie which cannot break. How could I realize it? I never knew my mother, and my father was not concerned about my affection.
"The death of Mme. Derize contributed still more to separate our thoughts. He bore his sorrow alone, and I could not speak to him of her without irritating him. It is very wretched for a woman to remain a stranger to a large part of the life of her.... I was going to say, her husband. He certainly endeavored to lessen the pain he was causing me. His sorrow was like a wall between us, and there must be no walls when two people love each other. Then I fell ill this winter. Deprivations, the struggles of my first years in London, had left no visible traces on me, only a little inward wear and tear and a weakened power of resistance. I believed that love would give me back my youth. In my first illness, in the first breach of our intimacy, I noticed signs of those hard years in my face. And, as if I longed madly to destroy myself, I showed them to him one by one. I am no longer a young woman like you, and the days count for me. You will understand from this confession whether I have promised myself to be sincere.
"Our life was apparently unchanged. During his silences I followed the trend of his thoughts. The dead and the living, the past and the future were calling him to Dauphiné. We were only in accord when we traveled. One should always travel when one lives outside of ordinary life, but one cannot always travel. From certain fragments of sentences, from his absentmindedness, from his last visit to Grenoble, I felt that he had found a new woman in you. By an unexpected reaction, it was you who now became my rival. I had not believed that you would be so faithful, brave, resolute in hope, and so capable of making the most of unhappiness. The physical memory I retained of you, had very often been sufficient to inspire me with fear. Since you compelled me to admire you from afar, I detested you until the day I felt—so unhappily—that you could still do what I could no longer do, and that I should have to tell you so.
"His last book opened my eyes. I sought its pages in vain for that delightful weakness of pity, that bending of the will which I had found in all the writers whom Fate or their own desires had led to unconventional living. It treated only of family, of the home, of hierarchy, of endurance, of tradition, and of the dead. He expresses his deepest thoughts in his books. He put ours only into a 'Schumann,' which is heartrending. Finally, the newspapers spoke of his candidacy for the Academy. I was afraid of hearing it confirmed, when one day two friends, whom he esteemed highly, paid him a visit. He said nothing to me about the interview, the purpose of which was all too clear. I asked him about it, and he put me aside at the first word. No doubt your separation, the contrast between his convictions and his books, rendered any step difficult. From his hostile air, I knew he was ambitious, but weary.
"So everything was in league against me. He believed he had duties, as if there were any in love. One day he suggested that we should die together, when the slightest happiness is sufficient to restrain us. From that time, I began to think of disappearing. What should I do, if I did not go? I owe my practical judgment to English life. As he cannot forget you, neither you nor his children, since my love is no longer sufficient for him, my departure will give him back to his natural destiny, and I have accustomed myself to go on journeys alone. At another time he would have noticed my preparations, which I delayed, always awaiting a more favorable opportunity. Yesterday—on a rainy morning—he was away for the entire day. I took the train from London, and this evening I embark at Liverpool. He will never know where I am going. I have taken every precaution that it should remain a mystery. "It seems to me that these explanations should fix our respective positions exactly, and that a warning should make it clearer for you what course to pursue. The harm I have done you, I did not wish to do, and you are repaying me without wishing it any more than I. Forget that. Forget me. One does not think of death when one holds life in armfuls, and when one hopes for love. May yours, Madame, inspire you, as mine has inspired me.
"ANNE DE SÉZERY."