, and already take my pen
to talk to you. I left Paris with the Abbe, Helene, Hebert and Marphise,
so that I might get away from the noise and bustle of the town until
Thursday evening. I want to have perfect quietness, in which to reflect.
I intend to fast for many good reasons, and to walk much to make up for
the long time I have spent in my room; and above all, I want to
discipline myself for the love of God.

But, my dear daughter, what I shall do more than all this, will be to
think of you. I have not ceased to do so since I arrived here; and being
quite unable to restrain my feelings, I have betaken myself to the
little shady walk you so loved, to write to you, and am sitting on the
mossy bank where you so often used to lie. But, my dear, where in this
place have I not seen you? Do not thoughts of you haunt my heart
everywhere I turn?--in the house, in the church, in the field, in the
garden--every spot speaks to me of you. You are in my thoughts all the
time, and my heart cries out for you again and again. I search in vain
for the dear, dear child I love so passionately; but she is 600 miles
away, and I cannot call her to my side. My tears fall, and I cannot stop
them. I know it is weak, but this tenderness for you is right and
natural and I cannot be strong.

I wonder what your mood will be when you receive this letter; perhaps at
that moment you will not be touched with the emotions I now feel so
poignantly, and then you may not read it in the spirit in which it was
written. But against that I cannot guard, and the act of writing
relieves my feelings at the moment--that is at least what I ask of it.
You would not believe the condition into which this place has thrown me.

Do not refer to my weakness, I beg of you; but you must love me, and
have respect for my tears, since they flow from a heart which is full of
you.

_The Brinvilliers Affair_

The Brinvilliers affair is still the only thing talked of in Paris. The
Marquise confessed to having poisoned her father, her brothers, and one
of her children. The Chevalier Duget had been one of those who had
partaken of a poisoned dish of pigeon-pie; and when the Brinvilliers was
told three years later that he was still alive, her only remark was
"that man surely has an excellent constitution." It seems she fell
deeply in love with Sainte Croix, an officer in the regiment of her
husband, the Marquis, who lived in their house. Believing that Sainte
Croix would