August 30, 1869.
I have just been telling the children the beautiful story of St. Felix and St. Adauctus, as the charming imagination of Margaret had arranged it at the convent. How they listened to me. On turning round I was taken by surprise: René was there! You know that I like to be alone when fulfilling the functions of professor—a title which I usurp from the good abbé, whose charity frequently takes him from home. “Are you displeased?” asked my brother. Displeased! But he and I are altogether one—one and the same soul. Picciola makes profound observations thereupon. Margaret tells me that she said to her: “The soul ought in this world to be with God as Uncle René is with Aunt Georgina, and as you and Lord William.” Margaret was delighted with this comparison.
Letter from the saintly Isa; one might call it a song of heaven. “O charming felicities which I find in this paradise of intelligence and friendship, incomparable joys of the religious affections, delights of the sensible presence of Him who is my all, how dear are you to me!”
Picciola is sleeping in an easy-chair two steps from me. She seems to have scarcely a breath of life left. I questioned her as discreetly as possible; she understood immediately: “Later, aunt, I will tell you.”
What! have I not told you about my six children? The eldest has been taken as femme de chambre by Margaret, the second occupies the same post for Anna, and Thérèse claims the third. The youngest go to school. Johanna wished to take charge of them, but I said, “No, thank you”; she has a family and I am free. René wants to talk business to you. I give up my sheet of paper to him. May God be with us!
September 5.
Only a fortnight more to enjoy the presence of Marcella! The travellers are home again. The corbeille is splendid; but the pious projects of M. de V. are still more so. Did I tell you that he had been connected with M. de Clissey, in a journey the latter took to Naples? M. de C. loved Marcella then, and spoke only of her. He was on the eve of a dangerous expedition. “Promise me,” he said to M. de V., “that in case of my death you will marry her!” M. de V. promised. This is like the tales of knight-errantry. M. de Verlhiac was unable to be present at his friend’s marriage, and, as he was at that time of an adventurous turn of mind, he went away to New York and had no news of the De Clisseys. It was only on Marcella’s account that he settled temporarily at Hyères. You see, this is altogether a romance, but in the best taste possible. M. de V. told us all this after his proposal had been accepted.
All France is interested in the Council; we are praying for this intention. What times we live in, dear Kate! The church is on the eve of terrible trials, say the seers.
Picciola wishes to write to you; but will her poor little hand have the strength to do so? Oh! how touching she is in her serenity. She communicates with great fervor twice a week.
Lizzy, the happy Lizzy! has a son! Gaudete et lætare! I rejoice in her joy! Edith is ill; Mistress Annah says seriously so. Always a shadow!