Juliette.
Monday, 10 p.m., July 7th, 1851.
What I had foreseen has happened, my beloved, even sooner and more painfully than I had feared. Does this fresh crisis foreshadow my speedy recovery? I dare not hope it, for I feel that my disease is incurable. I tell you so in the frankness of my despair. I neither can nor will deceive you, beloved, and my anxiety, far from diminishing, augments with every minute. I am suffering the torment of the most humiliating and poignant jealousy. I know that for seven years you have adored a woman you think beautiful, witty and accomplished.[100] I know that but for her sudden treachery,[101] she would still be your preferred mistress. I know that you introduced her into your family-circle, that she is of your world, that you can meet her at any moment, that you promised her you would continue your intimacy with her, at all events outwardly. All this I know—yet you expect me to feel my own position secure! Surely I should need to be idiotic or insane to do that. Alas, I happen to be instead a very clear-sighted, miserable woman.
Midnight.
Beloved, thanks to you and thanks to your tender perseverance and inexhaustible kindness, I am once more, and this time for ever I hope, the sensible, sanguine, happy Juju of the good old days. But if I am to be quite as I was then, you must suffer no longer, my little man—you must be as strong as three Turks, and love me as much as a hundred Swiss-guards. On those conditions I shall be happy! happy!! happy!!!, but pending that great day, try to sleep soundly to-night, not to be unwell to-morrow, and to forgive me for loving you too much.
Juliette.
Saturday, 8 p.m., July 26th, 1851.
I trust you, my beloved, and believe everything you say. I yield my soul to the hopes of happiness you have held out to me. My heart is full of love and security. I love you, I am happy, I am at peace, I forget all I have suffered. I remember only the tender, loyal, encouraging words you uttered just now. Felicity has succeeded despair—I quit hell and enter Paradise. I love you and you love me, nothing can be sad any more. You will see how I shall resume my interest in life, how I shall smile, how happy I shall be, and what confidence I shall have in you. I do not know whether we shall be able to carry out all the adorable plans you sketched just now, but I experienced great happiness in anticipation while I watched you making them, and knew myself so closely associated with them. I felt as if all my past sorrows were transfigured into happiness to come. I listened, and my heart was filled with joy. Thank you, my Victor, thank you, my beloved. Do not be anxious about me any more; now that you love me I shall get well. I shall be happy again, you will see. I am beginning already, so as to lose no time in rewarding you for your goodness and gentleness and patience. I am awaiting you with my sweetest smiles, my tenderest caresses.
Juliette.
Monday, 12.45 p.m., July 28th, 1851.