I
LETTER TO MADAME CAMILLE HEUDEBERT,
AT D----, VIA BLOIS.
Do not worry, dear sister, for here I am, at Paris, without accident or
fatigue. I have slept a few hours, breakfasted on a cup of coffee, made
my toilet, and, in a moment, I am going to take a carriage to Madame
d'Arglade's, that she may present me to Madame de Villemer. This evening
I will write you the result of the solemn interview, but I want first to
mail you these few words, that you may feel easy about my journey and my
health.
Take courage with me, my Camille; all will go well. God does not abandon
those who depend upon him, and who do their best to second his tender
providence. What has been saddest for me in my resolution are your
tears,--yours and the dear little ones'; it is hard for me to restrain
mine when I think of them; but you _must_ see it was absolutely
necessary. I could not sit with folded hands when you have four children
to rear. Since I have courage and health, and no other claim upon me in
this world than that of my tenderness for you and for those poor angels,
it was for me to go forth and try to gain our livelihood. I will reach
that end, be sure. Sustain me instead of regretting me and making me
weaker; that is all I ask of you. And with this, my much-loved sister, I
embrace you and our dear children with all my heart. Do not make them
weep by speaking to them of me; but try, nevertheless, not to let them
forget me; that would pain me beyond measure.