ese
bonds." With respect to the bonds which held me before, I do not
regret them. Philosophy bids us say, _Dominus pars_.

When I was going up to the altar to receive the tonsure, I was already
terribly exercised by doubt, but I was forced onward, and I was told
that it was always well to obey. I went forward therefore, but God is
my witness, that my inmost thought and the vow which I made to myself,
was that I would take for my part the truth which is the hidden God,
that I would devote myself to its research, renouncing all that is
profane, or that is calculated to make us deviate from the holy and
divine goal to which nature calls us. This was my resolve, and an
inward voice told me that I should never repent me of my promise. And
I do not repent of it, my dear friend, and I am ever repeating the
soothing words _Dominus pars_, and I believe that I am not less
agreeable to God or faithful to my promise, than he who does not
scruple to pronounce them with a vain heart, and a frivolous mind.
They will never be a reproach to me until, prostituting my thought to
vulgar objects, I devote my life to one of those gross and commonplace
aims which suffice for the profane, and until I prefer gross and
material pleasures to the sacred pursuit of the beautiful and the
true. Until that time arrives, I shall recall with anything but regret
the day on which I pronounced these words.

Man can never be sure enough of his thoughts to swear fidelity to such
and such a system which for the time he regards as true. All that he
can do is to devote himself to the service of the truth, whatever it
may be, and dispose his heart to follow it wherever he believes that
he can see it, at no matter how great a sacrifice.

I write you these lines in haste, and with my head full of the by no
means agreeable work which I am doing for my examination, so you must
excuse the want of order in my ideas. I shall expect a long letter
from you which will have on me the effect of water on a thirsty land.

PARIS, _September 11th_, 1846.

I wish that I could comment on each line of your letter which I
received an hour ago, and communicate the many different reflections
which it awakens in me. But I am so hard at work that this is
impossible. I cannot refrain, however, from committing to paper the
principal points upon which it is important that we should come to an
immediate understanding.

It grieved me very much to read that there was henceforward a