_From Madame de P---- to Madame de G----_
NOIRMOUTIERS,... _November_, 1844.
I promised to write to you, my dear Sophie, and I keep my word; besides,
I have nothing better to do these long evenings.
My last letter informed you that I had made the simultaneous discovery
that I was thirty and ruined. For the first of these misfortunes, alas!
there is no remedy; as for the second, we have resigned ourselves to it
badly enough, but, after all, we are resigned. We must pass at least two
years, to repair our fortune, in the dreary manor-house, from whence I
write this to you. I have been simply heroic. Directly I knew of the
state of our finances I proposed to Henry that he should economise in
the country, and eight days later we were at Noirmoutiers.
I will not tell you anything of the journey. It was many years since I
had found myself alone with my husband for such a length of time. Of
course, we were both in a bad temper; but, as I was thoroughly
determined to put on a good face, all went off well.
You were acquainted with my good resolutions, and you shall see if I am
keeping to them. Behold us, then, installed. By the way, Noirmoutiers,
from a picturesque point of view, leaves nothing to be desired. There
are woods, and cliffs, and the sea within a quarter of a league. We have
four great towers, the walls of which are fifteen feet thick. I have
fitted a workroom in the recess of the window. My drawing-room, which is
sixty feet long, is decorated with figured tapestry; it is truly
magnificent when lighted up by eight candles: quite a Sunday
illumination. I die of fright every time I pass it after sunset. We are
very badly furnished, as you may well believe. The doors do not fit
closely, the wainscoting cracks, the wind whistles, and the sea roars in
the most lugubrious fashion imaginable. Nevertheless I am beginning to
grow accustomed to it.
I arrange and mend things, and I plant; before the hard frosts set in I
shall have made a tolerable habitation. You may be certain that your
tower will be ready by the spring. If I could but have you here now! The
advantage of Noirmoutiers is that we have no neighbours: we are
completely isolated. I am thankful to say I have no other callers but my
priest, the Abbé Aubain. He is a well-mannered young man, although he
has arched and bushy eyebrows and great dark eyes like those of a stage
villain. Last Sunday he did not give us so bad a sermon for the country.
It sounded very appropriate. "Misfortune was a benefit from Providence
to purify our souls." Be it so. At that rate we ought to give thanks to
that honest stockbroker who desired to purify our souls by running off
with our money.
Good-bye, dear friend.
My piano has just come, and some big packing-cases. I must go and unpack
them all.
P.S.--I reopen this letter to thank you for your present. It is most
beautiful, far too beautiful for Noirmoutiers. The grey hood is
charming. I recognise your taste there. I shall put it on for Mass on
Sunday; perhaps a commercial traveller will be there to admire it. But
for whom do you take me, with your novels? I wish to be, I _am_, a
serious-minded person. Have I not sufficiently good reasons? I am going
to educate myself. On my return to Paris, in three years from now (good
heavens! I shall be thirty-three), I mean to be a Philaminte. But
really, I do not know what books to ask you to send me. What do you
advise me to learn? German or Latin? It would be very nice to read
_Wilhelm Meister_ in the original, or the tales of Hoffmann.
Noirmoutiers is the right place for whimsical stories. But how am I to
learn German at Noirmoutiers? Latin would suit me well, for I think it
so unfair that men should keep it all to themselves. I should like to
have lessons given me by my priest.