Poor Gaston is innocent enough to think he knows the measure of my love!  He simply has not an idea of it, but to you I must make it clear; for this letter, Renee, is something in the nature of a last will and testament.  Weigh well what I am going to say, I beg of you.

At this moment I am confident of being loved as perhaps not another women on this earth, nor have I a shadow of doubt as to the perfect happiness of our wedded life, to which I bring a feeling hitherto unknown to me.  Yes, for the first time in my life, I know the delight of being swayed by passion.  That which every woman seeks in love will be mine in marriage.  As poor Felipe once adored me, so do I now adore Gaston.  I have lost control of myself, I tremble before this boy as the Arab hero used to tremble before me.  In a word, the balance of love is now on my side, and this makes me timid.  I am full of the most absurd terrors.  I am afraid of being deserted, afraid of becoming old and ugly while Gaston still retains his youth and beauty, afraid of coming short of his hopes!

And yet I believe I have it in me, I believe I have sufficient devotion and ability, not only to keep alive the flame of his love in our solitary life, far from the world, but even to make it burn stronger and brighter.  If I am mistaken, if this splendid idyl of love in hiding must come to an end—­an end! what am I saying?—­if I find Gaston’s love less intense any day than it was the evening before, be sure of this, Renee, I should visit my failure only on myself; no blame should attach to him.  I tell you now it would mean my death.  Not even if I had children could I live on these terms, for I know myself, Renee, I know that my nature is the lover’s rather than the mother’s.  Therefore before taking this vow upon my soul, I implore you, my Renee, if this disaster befall me, to take the place of mother to my children; let them be my legacy to you!  All that I know of you, your blind attachment to duty, your rare gifts, your love of children, your affection for me, would help to make my death—­I dare not say easy —­but at least less bitter.

The compact I have thus made with myself adds a vague terror to the solemnity of my marriage ceremony.  For this reason I wish to have no one whom I know present, and it will be performed in secret.  Let my heart fail me if it will, at least I shall not read anxiety in your dear eyes, and I alone shall know that this new marriage-contract which I sign may be my death warrant.

I shall not refer again to this agreement entered into between my present self and the self I am to be.  I have confided it to you in order that you might know the full extent of your responsibilities.  In marrying I retain full control of my property; and Gaston, while aware that I have enough to secure a comfortable life for both of us, is ignorant of its amount.  Within twenty-four hours I shall dispose of it as I please; and in order to save him from a humiliating position, I shall have stock, bringing in twelve thousand francs a year, assigned to him.  He will find this in his desk on the eve of our wedding.  If he declined to accept, I should break off the whole thing.  I had to threaten a rupture to get his permission to pay his debts.