death, and for my
part, I like to indulge in the freest range of fancy.

A whole oxhide would not be large enough to contain all the dreams that
float through my brain. When I am seated at my work, my mind is more
active than my fingers: it is so delightful to dream, to revel in a
future of one's own creation, bright as an excitable imagination can
make it.... My mother says to me often, but I fear in vain: 'A well born
and properly educated young lady should never think of her future
husband;' but, in truth, it is not of a husband that I think; it is of a
thousand things, of memories, of hopes, and of descriptions, adventures,
etc., which I meet with in my reading, and which I involuntarily apply
to myself. If my fate were to be like that of Mademoiselle Scudery's, or
Madame Lafayette's, or Madame de Beaumont's heroines! I can picture all
the situations so vividly that I really believe all these adventures
will happen to me. I must confess that Barbara's marriage has much more
inclined me to revery. She blamed such wanderings of the fancy, and
always hindered my reading romances; but to make up for lost time,
madame makes me read a great deal, and the more I read, the more does my
imagination lose itself in vague dreams.

Barbara possessed an entirely different character; she has assured me
that she never thought of her future life, or of the husband she was to
have; and if this latter idea ever crossed her mind, it was only when
she said her prayers. I must here say that, according to our mother's
desire, after we have reached our sixteenth year, we always add these
words to our prayers: 'My God, give me wisdom, good health, the love of
my neighbor, and a good husband.' This was the only moment during the
day that Barbara's thoughts ever rested upon her future lord: 'And it
should be so,' she used to say; 'since one day he must replace our
father and mother, and we must love and obey him until our death.'
Beyond this she felt no anxiety as to what he would be or when he would
come.

Notwithstanding her indifference, she has succeeded perfectly; her
husband is one of the most upright and excellent of men; she writes to
us that after she has somewhat overcome her grief at the separation from
her family, there can be no happier woman in the world than she is. One
may plainly see that she loves the starost more and more every day, and
that she is entirely satisfied with her lot. But I ... who can tell what
may be in s