J.
Paris,
Friday, 11.15 a.m., December 26th, 1873.
Dear adored one. All your desires in life, as well as mine, are granted to-day if your dear Victor has spent a good night, as I hope. I am anxiously waiting for Mariette’s return to know how the dear invalid is....
My poor beloved, I am in despair—I have just seen Mariette, who tells me that your poor son is in high fever at this moment.[115] I do not know how to tell you; I do not think I shall have the strength to do so. Dr. Sée has been sent for and Mariette has just gone back to hear what he thinks of this relapse. Oh, Heaven have mercy on us! I hardly dare breathe or even weep, so greatly do I dread betraying to you the misfortune which threatens you, my beloved. How can I ward off the fate that is hanging over you? What can I say or do? My brain reels! Ought I to tell you everything—would it be wrong to conceal from you the imminent sorrow that is going to wring your heart once more? I know not, but I lack the courage either to speak or to be silent; I am in despair, yet I dare not make moan. I suffer, I adore you. Pity me, as I pity you. Let us love each other under this cruel trial, as we should if Heaven were opening its gates to us.
J.
Paris,
Monday, 5 o’clock p.m., December 29th, 1873.
Go, dearest, try to find in a solitary walk, which may prove fruitful to the world, some solace for the painful agitation of your heart. My thoughts follow you lovingly and bless every one of your steps. Do not worry about me in the new arrangements of your life. Whatever you settle shall be accepted by me. For forty-one years I have followed that programme, and I will do so now, more than ever. Provided you love me as I love you, I desire nothing more from God or you. The advice I give you, apart from my own personal concerns, is always practical and in your own interest and that of your dear grandchildren. I should feel I had failed in my duty if I kept the least of my ideas from you, whether good or bad, insignificant or stupid. I love you and adore you, body, heart and soul.
J.
Paris,
Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 17th, 1874.
Dear one, there is rather more bustle about us than usual on this our sweet and sacred anniversary. We have the little excitement of your two adorable grandchildren, which we had not expected, but which is all the more delightful for that. The perfection of happiness would have been to take them ourselves to that famous circus which little Georges already knows, and little Jeanne dreams of; but the bad weather and the remains of my influenza counsel a pusillanimous prudence. It is not without regret, beloved, that I impose this sacrifice of one of our most precious joys upon you, but I feel I cannot do otherwise to-day. As for the dear little things, their pleasure will, fortunately, not be marred in any way. So long as they can revel in the antics of Mr. and Mrs. Punch and their august family, they will not mind whom they go with. That being the case, Mariette is a sufficient escort to the promised land of Auriol and Punch.