I would at this very moment be talking to him in Paris but for you! Don't be astonished, for your advice prevented my returning to Paris yesterday.
Alas! I asked you for aid, and you add to my anxiety.
I left the hotel de Langeac with a joyful heart. The test will be favorable, thought I,—and when I have seen Roger in the depths of despair for a few days, seeking me everywhere, impatiently expecting me, blaming me a little and regretting me deeply, I will suddenly appear before him, happy and smiling! I will say, "Roger, you love me; I left you to think of you from afar, to question my own heart—to try the strength of your devotion; I now return without fear and with renewed confidence in myself and in you; never again shall we be separated!"
I intend to frankly confess everything to him; but you say the confession will be fatal to me. "If you intend to marry M. de Moubert, for Heaven's sake keep him in ignorance of the motive of your departure; invent an excuse—be called off to perform a duty—to nurse a sick friend; choose any story you please, rather than let him suspect you ran away to experiment upon the degree of his love."
You add, "he loves you devotedly and never will he forgive you for inflicting on him these unnecessary sufferings; a proud and deserving love never pardons suspicious and undeserved trials of its faith."
Now what can I do? Invent a falsehood? All falsehoods are stupid! Then I would have to write it, for I could not undertake to lie to his face. With strangers and people indifferent to me, I might manage it; but to look into the face of the man who loves me, who gazes so honestly into my eyes when I speak to him, who understands every expression of my countenance, who observes and admires the blush that flushes my cheek, who is familiar with every modulation of my voice, as a musician with the tones of his instrument—
Why, it is a moral impossibility to attempt such a thing! A forced smile, a false tone, would put him on his guard at once; he becomes suspicious.
At his first question my fine castle of lies vanishes into air, and I have to fall back on the unvarnished truth.
To gratify you, Valentine, I will lie, but lie at a distance. I feel that it is necessary to put many stations and provinces between my native candor and the people I am to deceive.
Why do you scold me so much? You must see that I have not acted thoughtlessly; my conduct is strange, eccentric and mysterious to no one but Roger.