“I sincerely hope that you will have your wish, Antoinette. May you find this other heart which your heart seeks! May God bestow upon you all the blessings of love and spare you all its trials, for if I, a man, am crushed by these storms, how would it be with you? Ah! you do not know yet what love is, Antoinette!

  “Love! ah, it is joy and sorrow, intoxication and fever! philtre and poison! it exhilarates, but it kills.

  “From the balcony of Juliet to her grave, how many smiles; but how many tears! —

  “Happy the one to whom death comes first!

  “But when Romeo finds his beloved, dead and cold on her tomb, what is there left for him but to die too?

  “For my own part I now trust to life for this happy consummation.

  “Do you know, Antoinette, when one loves truly, one’s heart no longer beats in one’s own breast, but in that of another! When one loves, one sacrifices self, merges one’s life in that of another, and yet in that other life we find our own.

  “When we love, we anticipate the joys of heaven, until death, taking one of the two halves of our soul, changes heaven into hell.

  “Then all is over, and for the one who is left, hope lies only in death, which, having parted those who love, can alone re-unite them.

  “But you, Antoinette, with life, youth and the future all before you! do not let your bright little self be saddened by the terrible sorrows which press Monsieur d’Avrigny and me towards the grave.

  “The loss of a sister should not have the same power to crush you as that of a lover or a child.

  “There are the possibilities of so many affections still before you — and yet you are sad! Poor child! I can read between the lines; your loving heart demands affection, your active mind calls for movement, life, love; you long to live, for so far you have but reached the preface of life, and its mysterious pages have remained closed to your modest gaze.

  “You long to use the rich and powerful gifts with which God has endowed you — and what more natural, Antoinette? Do not therefore feel ashamed, dear sister; all these longings are holy and divine, and in their realisation will you find not only your own happiness, but the happiness of another.

  “Do not therefore attempt to curb your destiny, nor your nature, Antoinette; go out into the world which is open to receive you; and under the guidance of your old and trusted friends, seek amongst the crowd for a heart worthy of your own.

  “From the brink of Madeleine’s grave, I shall follow your career with brotherly interest.

  “But let me hasten to tell you one thing; you will not easily find a heart worthy of your own, Antoinette. And remember, one mistake is fatal; one’s whole life depends on the cast of the die; the greater the freedom of choice, the greater chance of mistake. It is appalling!

  “I who was fortunate enough to meet at the threshold of life, at the very gate of love, my darling Madeleine, known and loved from childhood, I say on looking back on the past, that one has no right to risk the happiness of one’s whole life on the hasty decision of a moment, on blind instinct alone.

  “Be careful, Antoinette, be careful — I only wish that I were in Paris to advise you, for although quite disinterested as a spectator, yet I am devoted as a brother.

  “Ah! I would be difficult to please where you are concerned, Antoinette; the man lucky enough to win my approval would have to be possessed of many qualities, “But tell me — what can you want more than you have? You are blest with health, beauty, wealth; nature has endowed you with grace, and all the advantages which education can give, all the gifts which God can bestow, are yours.

  “You are a living blessing; are we called upon to give up this blessing to one who can neither deserve nor appreciate it? Although we are far apart, Antoinette, let me always have your full confidence; although far apart, I shall try to watch over you, for afar or near, “I am yours, body and soul, “AMAURY.”

  “P.S. — Let me caution you about Philip. I know him well, and he is just the sort of fellow to fall in love with you.

  “Although he is, I know, very ridiculous, yet one can never quite fathom him; it takes a long time to rouse him, but once he is roused, nothing will stop him, and one lives in constant dread of some tremendous explosion.

  “Frankly, I should be very sorry to see a refined girl, like yourself, tied to such a prosy fellow.”

  MONSIEUR D’AVRIGNY’S DIARY.

  “At last God has heard my prayers, I begin to feel within me the germs of that decay, which, in eight or ten months, must inevitably bring me to the grave.

  “Surely it cannot be displeasing to God that I should allow myself to die of the disease which it has pleased Him to send me; I am but fulfilling His will, that is all.

  “Madeleine, wait for me!”

  CHAPTER XLIII.

  ANTOINETTE TO AMAURY.

  “6th January.

  “HOW eloquently you speak of love, Amaury, how well you know its emotions! Each time I read over your letter, and I have done so many times, I cannot help thinking how happy was the woman whose life was crowned with such a love as yours, and to me it seems so sad that all this love and devotion, stored in your heart for her, should now be wasted and lost!

  “You advise me to go out more, to mix again in society, and to seek there a love which may compensate for the lost affections of past years; but can you not understand that you yourself disenchant me of it all beforehand, Amaury? Where is it possible for me to find, among all who whisper words of love into my ear, another lover like Madeleine’s, who still is hers in death? This chivalrous forget- fullness of self, this nobility of heart, do not these belong to a different age than ours?

  “Public men, puffed up with a sense of their own importance, and indolent ones, weary of everything, these are the sort of men I see around me.

  “Do not therefore speak of Romeo and Juliet in the midst of this thick-witted and commonplace crowd. Amaury, believe me, Romeo and Juliet are creatures of a poet’s fancy, not beings of this world.

  “Therefore all my wealth, dear brother, will go to the poor, as all my heart will return to God. That is my destiny, Amaury. That is why I am always laughing and joking. When one laughs, one has no time to think; when one jokes, one has no time to pity oneself.

  “But it hurts me to speak of this, so let us change the subject.

  “This other subject is M. Philippe Auvray.

  “You guessed right, Amaury, Philip loves me; not that he has told me of his love, I am thankful to say, he is too self- contained, too cautious to risk an avowal; but, it is apparent to all, and when such a discovery dawns upon me, forgive me, but I cannot keep it to myself.

  “Besides, why should I?

  “Ah! but I am forgetting; you say one may be deceived in him. My dear Amaury, you are a hundred miles from here, and from the truth.

  “If you could only see the poor fellow and how pitifully he watches my every movement, you would agree with me that there is a greater chance of his deceiving himself than others. If he is aware of his passion, he certainly fights against it.

  “At times he seems seized with some strange feeling of remorse, and quite suddenly asks my permission to retire; as if he were afraid of being caught in the act of loving me. I begin to think that he wishes to put himself out of the way of temptation.

  “In any case, he is far more ill at ease than I am, and when he happens to be Monsieur de Mengis’ partner at whist, he looks such a martyr that I feel quite sorry for him.

  “However, as there is not much harm in it all, I must ask you, Amaury, not to deprive me of my victim; I can promise that quite six months will elapse before timorous Philip will say one single word which might be construed into a proposal.

  “I have not even thought it worthwhile to worry Monsieur d’Avrigny by mentioning these meaningless attentions.

  “Besides my poor uncle is sadder and more self-absorbed than ever. I very much fear that it will not be long before he rejoins his child.

  “But that is what he longs for, is it not? That is the happiness which awaits him. Still, the fact remains, that the day which will bring happiness to him will bring me many tears.

  “There is one thing I must tell you, Amaury; I feel convinced that my uncle is suffering from some incurable disease. Is it caused by grief only? is it some sickness which may be brought on by a rooted sorrow?

  “I was speaking about this to that young doctor, Monsieur Gaston, in whom you have such confidence, and he told me that when anyone experiences a great mental upheaval, and nurses it, it invariably breeds germs of disease, especially in people of a certain age. He cited to me two or three diseases which may be entirely brought about through a sorrow which refuses to be comforted, and asked whether I could not arrange for him to have five minutes’ talk with my uncle.

  “He said that five minutes would be quite long enough for him to recognise the symptoms of the disease from which Monsieur d’Avrigny is suffering, if indeed he may be said to be suffering from anything but sorrow.

  “So on the first of the month, when I again saw my uncle, I tried to bring about this interview.

  “I told him that Doctor Gaston, who had obtained an appointment at the Palace through his influence, and was, as you know, one of his favourite pupils, wished to consult him with reference to the treatment of a patient whom he was attending, but he saw through our little ruse.

  “‘Yes! yes!’ he said, ‘I know the patient whom he is anxious to cure; but tell him, my child, his is a cure beyond all remedy, a fatal malady.’

  “And when, on hearing this reply, I began to weep, he said, ‘Ah, but if you are keenly interested in this patient, Antoinette, be comforted, for he has still between four and five months to live, and between now and then Amaury will have returned.’

  “Ah! but if my uncle were to die whilst you are still far away and I should find myself alone, quite alone!

  “You were longing for a companion, Amaury, to share with you the beauties of town and country; but can you not understand how infinitely more I stand in need of a friend who will share my sorrow and mingle his tears with mine. Such a friend I have, but miles divide us, and his sorrows form an even more effectual barrier than any distance.

  “Amaury, Amaury, what are you doing so far away from us all? How can you willingly condemn yourself to an isolation which weighs so terribly upon me? What good can it do you to estrange yourself so completely from all your surroundings.

  “If only you would come back, Amaury, you and I would share each other’s troubles.

  “Oh! do come. —

  “Your sister, “ANTOINETTE.”

  ANTOINETTE TO AMAURY.

  “2nd March.

  “I am told by Monsieur de Mengis that one of his nephews, when passing through Heidelberg, heard that you were living in that town.

  “I am therefore addressing this to Heidelberg, in the hope that this letter may be more fortunate than my previous ones, and bring me some reply.

  “What can be the matter with you; and why do you cut yourself off in this way from all who love you?

  “Do you know that for the last two months I have not the least idea where you are living, nor even whether you are alive.

  “I swear to you that if I were not a woman, I should have started in search of you long ago, and I should soon have discovered your whereabouts; oh! yes! I am certain I should, however carefully you might have hidden yourself, Amaury.

  “I have written you three letters, have you not received them? this is the fourth, and I wonder whether it will reach you. In each I have told you of my increasing anxieties.

  “Oh! surely if you had received them you would have sent some reply, knowing full well how your continued silence must wound me.

  “But at least I know that you are not dead, since Monsieur Léonce de Mengis heard of you when passing through Heidelberg; at least, I know where to write to you, and this time, if you do not reply, I shall understand that my letters are unwelcome to you, and shall in my turn, maintain as complete a silence as you have done.

  “Oh! Amaury! I am indeed most unhappy; of the three who used to love me, one is dead, another is dying, and the third forgets me.

  “It is unlike you, who are usually so thoughtful, so kind, so unselfish, to be so forgetful of those who are in trouble. Should you delay your return until my uncle is dead, Amaury, then you will find me in a convent.

  “Should you send no reply to this letter, then it is the last which I shall ever write you.

  “Amaury, have pity on your sister

  “ANTOINETTE.”

  AMAURY TO ANTOINETTE.

  “10th March.

  “You say that you have written me several letters, Antoinette, several letters to which I have not even replied, and in which you told me of your many anxieties.

  “These letters have never reached me.

  (These letters having been lost, cannot be submitted to the eye of the reader.)

  “Now, let me make a clean breast of it all, Antoinette;

  “I did not wish to receive them.

  “The letter before the last which I received from you, made a terrible impression upon me; I left Cologne without a word as to where I was going, not even knowing myself, and leaving no address at the post office where to forward any letters which might come addressed to me; Antoinette, I longed to get away from everyone, even from you —

  “So it is true, Antoinette, Monsieur d’Avrigny is dying, whilst I — I cannot die.

  “This man has the advantage over me in everything — in grief as in love.

  “Madeleine was waiting for us both, and he who swore he loved her best, will be the last to rejoin her.

  “Ah! why did Monsieur d’Avrigny prevent my taking my life when I wanted to? why did he snatch the pistol from my hand, with the lying phrase:

  “Why kill oneself? we must all die.”

  “It is, of course, quite true, that we must all die, since he himself is dying; but I suppose we two are differently constituted, and perhaps his greater age makes dying less difficult.

  “Perhaps, too, nature, who thrusts onward the old man, holds the young one back.

  “However it may be, I cannot die.

  “Oh! it was your last letter which caused the truth to burst upon me; gradually, without my even being aware of it, nature had re-asserted her rights, life had regained her hold upon me.

  “Day by day, without noticing it myself, I took more interest in the life which surrounded me. One day, to my surprise, I found myself in a drawing-room; in truth, except for the crape band round my hat, I was not different from other men.

  “On my return, I found your letter containing the news that Monsieur d’Avrigny is growing weaker each day, and drawing visibly hearer to the grave, whilst I, on the contrary, seem each day to take a stronger hold on life, a greater interest in my surroundings.

  “There are therefore two very distinct sorts of love; the love of a father, and that of a lover; the love from which a man dies and the love from which a man does not die.

  “I had already made a few friends at Cologne and accepted several invitations.

  “I longed to fly from everything, to be free, alone with myself, that in solitude and silence, I might try to understand the change which had come over me in six short months.

  “So I secretly withdrew to Heidelberg.

  “There, I searched my mind; there, I probed my wound.

  “Was it possible that my tears were well nigh exhausted, and my wound beginning to heal?

  “Was there a possibility of my recovery, and could human nature be so poor a thing that nothing in us is eternal, not even sorrow?

  “However it may be, I cannot die.

  “Sometimes to escape from the noise, the bustle, the pleasures of this gay university town, I bury myself in the mountains, or in this glorious valley of the Neckar, flying from living nature to still life.

  “But even there, beneath all that apparent stillness, I find vigour, vitality, energy, forerunners of the coming spring; the buds begin to burst, the earth assumes her mantle of green, all things are quickened; life seems bursting around me everywhere, and yet I am seeking but one thing — death.

  “Yes! life courses through my veins, buzzes in my brain, carries me along on its intoxicating stream; I am furious with myself, angry at my cowardice, filled with rage at this human weakness, to which, for a moment, I had fondly imagined myself superior.

  “Sometimes a mad longing seizes me to go out to Africa, and risk the chance of losing my life out there; for now I doubt whether I should have the courage to take my own life.

  “Really I think I am losing my head, Antoinette, and of course you are unable to enter into my feelings; forgive me, dear, forgive me everything; the incoherence of this letter, my long silence, and the unhappiness which this silence has caused you. You must forgive me, for indeed I suffer terribly.

  “Do you remember the advice which Hamlet gave to Ophelia:

  “‘Get thee to a nunnery!’

  “Well! I can only repeat these same words to you — ‘Get thee to a nunnery.’

  “Yes! yes! the best thing you can do, my poor Antoinette, is to enter a convent, for there is no vow which cannot be broken, no sorrow which time cannot heal, no love which is eternal.

  “Some day you will meet a man who will love you, or will think he does. He will swear that you are his very life, that if you die, he too must die; you will die, and he will long to die too. But six months later, to his infinite disgust, he will still be strong and well.

  “‘Get thee to a nunnery!’

  “I must see Monsieur d’Avrigny before he dies, that I may throw myself at his feet and ask his forgiveness. So one of these days, I shall leave for Paris. When, I cannot say, but certainly before May.

  “Now the fine days are coming, people will begin to travel again, and then the Rhine will become the happy hunting-ground of many by whom I am too well known to hope to escape recognition. They who wish to get away from Paris in the summer, must take refuge in Paris itself.