t we have never been able to calculate. Thus it is between two
beings, no matter how near they may be drawn to each other. One never
realizes the weight of suffering which oppresses his friend. This seems
such a little thing, yet one's life is affected by it in all its length,
in all its breadth. I have thus argued with myself; but the more I have
argued, the more thoroughly have I realized the extent of this hidden
sorrow. And I can only let the current carry me whither it will.

"Two voices struggle for supremacy when--by a rarely fortunate chance--I
am alone in my armchair waiting for Adolphe. One, I would wager, comes
from Eugene Delacroix's _Faust_ which I have on my table. Mephistopheles
speaks, that terrible aide who guides the swords so dexterously.
He leaves the engraving, and places himself diabolically before me,
grinning through the hole which the great artist has placed under his
nose, and gazing at me with that eye whence fall rubies, diamonds,
carriages, jewels, laces, silks, and a thousand luxuries to feed the
burning desire within me.

"'Are you not fit for society?' he asks. 'You are the equal of the
fairest duchesses. Your voice is like a siren's, your hands command
respect and love. Ah! that arm!--place bracelets upon it, and how
pleasingly it would rest upon the velvet of a robe! Your locks are
chains which would fetter all men. And you could lay all your triumphs
at Adolphe's feet, show him your power and never use it. Then he would
fear, where now he lives in insolent certainty. Come! To action! Inhale
a few mouthfuls of disdain and you will exhale clouds of incense. Dare
to reign! Are you not next to nothing here in your chimney-corner?
Sooner or later the pretty spouse, the beloved wife will die, if you
continue like this, in a dressing-gown. Come, and you shall perpetuate
your sway through the arts of coquetry! Show yourself in salons, and
your pretty foot shall trample down the love of your rivals.'

"The other voice comes from my white marble mantel, which rustles like a
garment. I think I see a veritable goddess crowned with white roses, and
bearing a palm-branch in her hand. Two blue eyes smile down on me. This
simple image of virtue says to me:

"'Be content! Remain good always, and make this man happy. That is the
whole of your mission. The sweetness of angels triumphs over all pain.
Faith in themselves has enabled the martyrs to obtain solace even on the
brasiers of their tormentors.