May 25, 1868.
Our oasis is resplendent, dear sister. Your good angel Raphael has sweetly protected us; not the smallest inconvenience; the delicious sensation that our sister-souls are more united than ever. To be alone with René, who is worth a thousand worlds—what delight! The air was pure, the country bright with fresh verdure, the birds joyous. Charming journey! At Tours a letter from Gertrude apprises me that all the W—— family is in villeggiatura at X——. We hasten thither, and are received like welcome guests. What a happy meeting!—an enchantment which lasted two days, at the end of which we bade a tearful adieu. But the arrival here—oh! what heart-felt joy! Everybody out to meet us, with flowers, shouts, and vivats. Dearest Kate, earth is too fair!
Marcella is in love with Brittany, our coasts and wild country-places. Everything around us is budding or singing; the children run about in the fields of broom. We read, we play music; and our poor are not forgotten. The twins are preparing themselves with great earnestness. M. l’Abbé gives them sermons, to which we all listen with much profit. Kate, do you remember my First Communion? Good-by, carissima.
May 28, 1868.
René is gone away to see his farms. Why am I so earthly that a single hour without him should
be painful? Adrien was just now reading that fine page of St. Augustine where he says: “Human life is full of short-lived joys, prolonged sorrows, and attachments which are frail and passing.”
When will heaven be ours, that the joys of meeting again may never end? We are preparing some beautiful music for Sunday. Why are not you to be there with your sweet voice, dear sister? My mother would have liked to see you, but she made the sacrifice of not doing so that we might have the pleasure of a tête-à-tête. What do you think of that! Dear, kind mother! Do you know she had a charming and idolized daughter, who died at the age of sixteen? She died here, where everything speaks of her; and it is for this reason that Mme. de T—— likes to return hither, and goes daily to the cemetery. I am told that I resemble her, this soul ascended to heaven, and every one finds it natural that there should be the perfect intimacy which exists between my mother and myself.
Marcella and Greek are waiting for me. Long live old Homer, long live Brittany, long live Kate!
Evening.—It is ten o’clock, and René is not come in. Adrien and Edouard are gone to wait for him, while I am dying of anxiety. Prayers without him seemed to me so sad! My mother also is uneasy. Where is he? Oh! where can he be?
29th.—The night has been a long one. Adrien and Edouard came back after having sought for him in