like unto its voice! Had I the power
to lay bare the agonies and passions which rend me within! Often, when a
storm has been sweeping over the great oaks above, you have told me
that you enjoy gazing upon the fury of the one and the resistance of the
other. This, you say, is a battle of mighty forces; and in the din in
the air you fancy you can detect the curses of the north wind and the
mournful cries of the venerable branches. Which suffers the more, Edmee,
the tree which resists, or the wind which exhausts itself in the attack?
Is it not always the wind that yields and falls? And then the sky,
grieved at the defeat of her noble son, sheds a flood of tears upon
the earth. You love these wild images, Edmee; and whenever you behold
strength vanquished by resistance you smile cruelly, and there is a look
in your inscrutable eyes that seems to insult my misery. Well, you have
cast me to the ground, and, though shattered, I still suffer; yes,
learn this, since you wish to know it, since you are merciless enough
to question me and to feign compassion. I suffer, and I no longer try
to remove the foot which the proud conqueror has placed on my broken
heart."

The rest of this letter, which was very long, very rambling and absurd
from beginning to end, was in the same strain. It was not the first time
that I had written to Edmee, though I lived under the same roof, and
never left her except during the hours of rest. My passion possessed me
to such a degree that I was irresistibly drawn to encroach upon my sleep
in order to write to her, I could never feel that I had talked enough
about her, that I had sufficiently renewed my promises of submission--a
submission in which I was constantly failing. The present letter,
however, was more daring and more passionate than any of the others.
Perhaps, in some mysterious way, it was written under the influence of
the storm which was rending the heavens while I, bent over my table,
with moist brow and dry, burning hand, drew this frenzied picture of my
sufferings. A great calm, akin to despair, seemed to come over me as
I threw myself upon my bed after going down to the drawing-room and
slipping my letter into Edmee's work-basket. Day was breaking, and the
horizon showed heavy with the dark wings of the storm, which was flying
to other regions. The trees, laden with rain, were tossing under the
breeze, which was still blowing freshly. Profoundly sad, but blindly
resigned to my suffering,