Letters of Two Brides

And of this terrible calculation you will be guilty some day, my noble

Baronne de Macumer, when you are the proud and happy wife of the man

who adores you; or rather, being a man of sense, he will spare you by

making it himself. (You see, dear dreamer, that I have studied the

code in its bearings on conjugal relations.) And when at last that day

comes, you will understand that we are answerable only to God and to

ourselves for the means we employ to keep happiness alight in the

heart of our homes. Far better is the calculation which succeeds

in this than the reckless passion which introduces trouble,

heart-burnings, and dissension.

I have reflected painfully on the duties of a wife and mother of a

family. Yes, sweet one, it is only by a sublime hypocrisy that we can

attain the noblest ideal of a perfect woman. You tax me with

insincerity because I dole out to Louis, from day to day, the measure

of his intimacy with me; but is it not too close an intimacy which

provokes rupture? My aim is to give him, in the very interest of his

happiness, many occupations, which will all serve as distractions to

his love; and this is not the reasoning of passion. If affection be

inexhaustible, it is not so with love: the task, therefore, of a woman

--truly no light one--is to spread it out thriftily over a lifetime.

At the risk of exciting your disgust, I must tell you that I persist

in the principles I have adopted, and hold myself both heroic and

generous in so doing. Virtue, my pet, is an abstract idea, varying in

its manifestations with the surroundings. Virtue in Provence, in

Constantinople, in London, and in Paris bears very different fruit,

but is none the less virtue. Each human life is a substance compacted

of widely dissimilar elements, though, viewed from a certain height,

the general effect is the same.

If I wished to make Louis unhappy and to bring about a separation, all

I need do is to leave the helm in his hands. I have not had your good

fortune in meeting with a man of the highest distinction, but I may

perhaps have the satisfaction of helping him on the road to it. Five

years hence let us meet in Paris and see! I believe we shall succeed

in mystifying you. You will tell me then that I was quite mistaken,

and that M. de l'Estorade is a man of great natural gifts.

As for this brave love, of which I know only what you tell me, these

tremors and night watches by starlight on the balcony, this idolatrous

worship, this deification of woman--I knew it was not for me. You can

enlarge the borders of your brilliant life as you please; mine is

hemmed in to the boundaries of La Crampade.