I
have seen those letters all again; I have read over, page by page, this
correspondence, bound up and classed, after death, by the pious hand of
friendship; one letter answering the other from the first note down to
the last word written by the death-struck hand, to which love still
imparted strength. I have read them o'er, and burned them with tears,
in secret, as if I committed a crime, and snatching twenty times the
half-consumed page from the flames to read it once again. Why did I
thus destroy? Because their very ashes would have been too burning for
this world, and I have scattered them to the winds of heaven.
LVII.
At length the day came when I could reckon the hours that still
separated me from Julie. All the resources that I could command did not
amount to a sufficient sum to keep me three or four months in Paris. My
mother, who noticed my distress without guessing its cause, drew from
the casket which her fondness had already nearly emptied a large
diamond, mounted as a ring. Alas, it was the last remaining jewel of
her youth! She slipped it secretly into my hand, with tears.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196