Letters of Two Brides

I am very nearly happy now, but should I be so without a friendly

heart in which to pour the confession? For how make a confidant of

him? My happiness would wound him, and has to be concealed. He is

sensitive as a woman, like all men who have suffered much.

For three months we remained as we were before marriage. As you may

imagine, during this time I made a close study of many small personal

matters, which have more to do with love than is generally supposed.

In spite of my coldness, Louis grew bolder, and his nature expanded. I

saw on his face a new expression, a look of youth. The greater

refinement which I introduced into the house was reflected in his

person. Insensibly I became accustomed to his presence, and made

another self of him.

By dint of constant watching I discovered how his

mind and countenance harmonize. "The animal that we call a husband,"

to quote your words, disappeared, and one balmy evening I discovered

in his stead a lover, whose words thrilled me and on whose arm I leant

with pleasure beyond words. In short, to be open with you, as I would

be with God, before whom concealment is impossible, the perfect

loyalty with which he had kept his oath may have piqued me, and I felt

a fluttering of curiosity in my heart. Bitterly ashamed, I struggled

with myself. Alas! when pride is the only motive for resistance,

excuses for capitulation are soon found.

We celebrated our union in secret, and secret it must remain between

us. When you are married you will approve this reserve. Enough that

nothing was lacking either of satisfaction for the most fastidious

sentiment, or of that unexpectedness which brings, in a sense, its own

sanction. Every witchery of imagination, of passion, of reluctance

overcome, of the ideal passing into reality, played its part.

Yet, in spite of all this enchantment, I once more stood out for my

complete independence. I can't tell you all my reasons for this. To

you alone shall I confide even as much as this. I believe that women,

whether passionately loved or not, lose much in their relation with

their husbands by not concealing their feelings about marriage and the

way they look at it.

My one joy, and it is supreme, springs from the certainty of having

brought new life to my husband before I have borne him any children.

Louis has regained his youth, strength, and spirits. He is not the

same man. With magic touch I have effaced the very memory of his

sufferings. It is a complete metamorphosis. Louis is really very

attractive now. Feeling sure of my affection, he throws off his

reserve and displays unsuspected gifts.