I am writing this letter on the chance of its reaching you, but with the sad premonition that you will never read it.
My beloved, I love you more than ever. I cannot do without you. I would willingly die for you, but I cannot consent to accept a devotion which might endanger your health and your life. I was forced to fly from you. It cost me much to resist your supplications and your wrathful glances. I suffered frightfully; and now, alas, I know that, were you with me, I could no longer withstand either your gentle pleading or your terrible anger. I am very wretched. I love and bless you. Be happy!
Juliette.
One portion of your curse has already come to pass. My soul and body have suffered severely. In addition, I have been harried to death by the idiotic authorities, who are suspicious of every woman without a passport. I have been at Rennes about half an hour. It is half-past two. I leave again for Brest to-morrow morning at four o’clock; I expect to arrive on Thursday at five in the evening. My Victor, I love you. I could do anything for you. Have pity upon me. I love you better than anything in life.
August 5th, 1834.
Mademoiselle Marie,
Care of Madame Drouet,
No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris.
Here is another letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. Try to get it to him. If he is in the country near Paris, let him know that there is something at my house in the name of Madame Kraftt that will interest him.
I have spent a sad and sleepless night. I am afraid of falling really ill. Answer this at once.
J. Drouet.
(Enclosure)