Guerande, April, 1838.
To Madame la Duchesse de Grandlieu:
Dear Mamma,--You will understand why I did not write to you during
the journey,--our wits are then like wheels. Here I am, for the
last two days, in the depths of Brittany, at the hotel du Guenic,
--a house as covered with carving as a sandal-wood box. In spite
of the affectionate devotion of Calyste's family, I feel a keen
desire to fly to you, to tell you many things which can only be
trusted to a mother.
Calyste married, dear mamma, with a great sorrow in his heart. We
all knew that, and you did not hide from me the difficulties of my
position; but alas! they are greater than you thought. Ah! my dear
mother, what experience we acquire in the short space of a few
days--I might even say a few hours! All your counsels have proved
fruitless; you will see why from one sentence: I love Calyste as
if he were not my husband,--that is to say, if I were married to
another, and were travelling with Calyste, I should love Calyste
and hate my husband.
Now think of a man beloved so completely, involuntarily,
absolutely, and all the other adverbs you may choose to employ,
and you will see that my servitude is established in spite of your
good advice.
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