“That young man, whose name you need not know, appeared to love me.  What had been friendship from infancy became love in time.  He began to tell me of the happiness that awaited us; he spoke of his impatience, I was only one year younger than he; but he had made the acquaintance of a man of dissipated habits who lived in the vicinity, a sort of adventurer, and had listened to his evil suggestions.  While I was yielding to his caresses with the confidence of a child, he resolved to deceive his father, and to abandon me after he had ruined me.

“His father called us into his room one evening and, in the presence of the family, set the day of our wedding.  The very evening before that day he had met me in the garden and had spoken to me of love with more force than usual; he said that since the time was set, we were just the same as married, and for that matter had been in the eyes of God, ever since our birth.  I have no other excuse to offer than my youth, my ignorance, and my confidence in him.  I gave myself to him before becoming his wife, and eight days afterward he left his father’s house.  He fled with a woman his new friend had introduced to him; he wrote that he had gone to Germany and that we should never see him again.

“That is, in a word, the story of my life; my husband knew it as you now know it.  I am proud, my child, and I have sworn that no man shall ever make me again suffer what I suffered then.  I saw you and forgot my oath, but not my sorrow.  You must treat me gently; if you are sick, I am also; we must care for each other.  You see, Octave, I, too, know what it is to call up memories of the past.  It inspires me at times with cruel terror; I should have more courage than you, for perhaps I have suffered more.  It is my place to begin; my heart is not sure of itself, I am still very feeble; my life in this village was so tranquil before you came!  I had promised myself that it should never change!  All this makes me exacting.

“Ah! well, it does not matter, I am yours.  You have told me, in your better moments, that Providence appointed me to watch over you as a mother.  Yes, when you make me suffer I do not look upon you as a lover, but as a sick child, fretful and rebellious, that I must care for and cure in order that I may always keep him and love him.  May God give me that power!” she added looking up to heaven.  “May God who sees me, who hears us, may the God of mothers and of lovers permit me to accomplish that task!  When I feel as if I should sink under it, when my pride rebels, when my heart is breaking, when all my life—­”

She could not finish; her tears choked her.  Oh, God!  I saw her there on her knees, her hands clasped on the rock; she swayed in the breeze as did the bushes about us.  Frail and sublime creature! she prayed for her love.  I raised her in my arms.

“Oh! my only friend,” I cried, “oh! my mistress, my mother, and my sister!  Pray also for me that I may be able to love you as you deserve.  Pray that I may have the courage to live; that my heart may be cleansed in your tears; that it may become a holy offering before God and that we may share it together.”