Need I tell you about the first day of this year, beloved? Scarcely had I finished writing to you than the children made an irruption into my room. Then oh! what kissing, what outcries of joy, what smiles and clapping of hands, at the sight of the presents arrived from Paris, thanks to the good Vincent, who has made himself wonderfully useful. How much I enjoyed it all! Then, on going to my mother, she blessed me and gave me a letter from René, together with an elegantly-chased cup of which I had admired the model. Then in the drawing-room all the greetings, and our poor (for my passion follows me everywhere), and your letter, with those from Ireland and Brittany (from the good curé who has charge of our works)—what delight for the whole day! Karl thanks me for having copied for him these consoling words: “No; whatever cross we may have to bear in the Christian life, we never lose that blessed peace of the heart which makes us willingly accept all that we suffer, and no longer desire any of the enjoyments of which we are deprived.” It is Fénelon who says that.
We have been making some acquaintances, amongst others that of a young widow who is spending the winter here on account of her daughter, a frail young creature of an ideal beauty—graceful, smiling, and affectionate; a white rose-bud half open. Her blue, meditative eyes remind me of Ellen’s. This interesting widow (of an officer of rank) knows no one, with the exception of the doctor. Her isolation excited our compassion. Lucy made the first advances, feeling attracted by the sadness of the unknown lady. Now the two families
form but one. Picciola and Duchesse have invited the sweet little Anna to share their lessons and their play. Her mother never leaves her for a moment; this child is her sole joy.
The 3d, Feast of St. Geneviève: read her life with the children. What a strong and mortified soul! I admire St. Germanus distinguishing, in the midst of the crowd, this poor little Geneviève who was one day to be so great. Is not this attraction of holy souls like a beginning of the eternal union?
Yesterday, St. Simon Stylites, that incomparable penitent separated from the world, living on a lofty column, between heaven and earth. Thus ought we also to be, in spirit, on a column—that of love and sacrifice.
I am sad about my first separation from René, and for so sorrowful a cause. That which keeps me from weeping is the certainty of Ellen’s happiness, and also the thought that from heaven she sees René and Karl together.
To-day is the Epiphany—this great festival of the first centuries, and that of our call to Christianity. Gold, frankincense, myrrh, the gifts of the happy Magi, those men of good-will who followed the star—symbolic and mysterious gifts: the gold of love, the incense of adoration, the myrrh of sacrifice—why cannot I also offer these to the divine Infant of the stable of Bethlehem? Would that I had the ardent faith of those Eastern sages—the faith which stops at nothing, which sees and comes! And the legendary souvenirs of the bean, an ephemeral royalty which causes so much joy!
My mother is fond of the old traditions. We have had a kingcake.[28]
Anna had the bean; she offered the royalty to Arthur. Cheerful evening. Mme. de Clissey was less sad. We accompanied her back to her house in choir.
Good-night, beloved sister; I am going to say my prayers and go to sleep.