Letters of Two Brides

"There is everything in Spain, even Spaniards of the old school," my

mother replied. "The Baron de Macumer obtained a passport, not without difficulty,

from the King of Sardinia," the young diplomatist went on. "He has now

become a Sardinian subject, and he possesses a magnificent estate in

the island with full feudal rights. He has a palace at Sassari. If

Ferdinand VII. were to die, Macumer would probably go in for

diplomacy, and the Court of Turin would make him ambassador. Though

young, he is--" "Ah! he is young?"

"Certainly, mademoiselle . . . though young, he is one of the most

distinguished men in Spain."

I scanned the house meanwhile through my opera-glass, and seemed to

lend an inattentive ear to the secretary; but, between ourselves, I

was wretched at having burnt his letter. In what terms would a man

like that express his love? For he does love me. To be loved, adored

in secret; to know that in this house, where all the great men of

Paris were collected, there was one entirely devoted to me, unknown to

everybody! Ah! Renee, now I understand the life of Paris, its balls,

and its gaieties. It all flashed on me in the true light. When we

love, we must have society, were it only to sacrifice it to our love.

I felt a different creature--and such a happy one! My vanity, pride,

self-love,--all were flattered. Heaven knows what glances I cast upon

the audience!

"Little rogue!" the Duchess whispered in my ear with a smile.

Yes, Renee, my wily mother had deciphered the hidden joy in my

bearing, and I could only haul down my flag before such feminine

strategy. Those two words taught me more of worldly wisdom than I have

been able to pick up in a year--for we are in March now. Alas! no more

Italian opera in another month. How will life be possible without that

heavenly music, when one's heart is full of love?

When I got home, my dear, with determination worthy of a Chaulieu, I

opened my window to watch a shower of rain. Oh! if men knew the magic

spell that a heroic action throws over us, they would indeed rise to

greatness! a poltroon would turn hero! What I had learned about my

Spaniard drove me into a very fever. I felt certain that he was there,

ready to aim another letter at me.

I was right, and this time I burnt nothing. Here, then, is the first

love-letter I have received, madame logician: each to her kind:-