Between usury and prodigality, my child, is economy.  Study, therefore, to acquire honorably a certain empire over Calyste.  These are the last words on earthly interests that I shall ever utter, and I have kept them to say as we part; for there are times when I tremble in my conscience lest to save Calyste I may have sacrificed you.  Bind him to you, firmly, give him children, let him respect their mother in you—­and,” she added, in a low and trembling voice, “manage, if you can, that he shall never again see Beatrix.”

  That name plunged us both into a sort of stupor; we looked into
  each other’s eyes, exchanging a vague uneasiness.

  “Do you return to Guerande?” she asked me.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Never go to Les Touches.  I did wrong to give him that property.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Child!” she answered, “Les Touches for you is Bluebeard’s
  chamber.  There is nothing so dangerous as to wake a sleeping
  passion.”

I have given you, dear mamma, the substance, or at any rate, the meaning of our conversation.  If Mademoiselle des Touches made me talk to her freely, she also gave me much to think of; and all the more because, in the delight of this trip, and the charm of these relations with my Calyste, I had well-nigh forgotten the serious situation of which I spoke to you in my first letter, and about which you warned me.

But oh! mother, it is impossible for me to follow these counsels.  I cannot put an appearance of opposition or caprice into my love; it would falsify it.  Calyste will do with me what he pleases.  According to your theory, the more I am a woman the more I make myself his toy; for I am, and I know it, horribly weak in my happiness; I cannot resist a single glance of my lord.  But no!  I do not abandon myself to love; I only cling to it, as a mother presses her infant to her breast, fearing some evil.

Note.—­When “Beatrix” was first published, in 1839, the volume ended
    with the following paragraph:  “Calyste, rich and married to the
    most beautiful woman in Paris, retains a sadness in his soul which
    nothing dissipates,—­not even the birth of a son at Guerande, in
    1839, to the great joy of Zephirine du Guenic.  Beatrix lives still
    in the depths of his heart, and it is impossible to foresee what
    disasters might result should he again meet with Madame de
    Rochefide.”  In 1842 this concluding paragraph was suppressed and
    the story continued as here follows.—­TR.

XVIII

THE END OF A HONEY-MOON

Guerande, July, 1838.

To Madame la Duchesse de Grandlieu: