While my eye glanced over the note, I held the packet with a trembling
hand. It seemed to me heavy as my fate. I hastened to pay and dismiss
the boatman, who was impatient to be off so as to leave the lake and
enter the waters of the Rhone before dark. I only asked him for a piece
of candle, to enable me to read my letters; he gave it, and I soon
heard the strokes of his oars, as they once more cut through the deep
sheet of water. I returned overjoyed to the upper room, to see once
more the sacred characters of that angel in the very place where she
had first revealed herself to me in all her splendor and in all her
love. I felt sure that one of those letters must inform me that she had
left Paris and would soon be with me. I sat down on the bundle of straw
which I had brought up for my bed, and lighted my candle by means of
the priming of my gun. I hastily tore open the cover, and it was only
then that I perceived that the seal of the first envelope was black,
and that the address was in the handwriting of Dr. Alain. I shuddered
as I saw mourning where I had expected to find joy. The other letters
slid from my hands onto my knees. I dared not read on for fear of
finding--alas! what neither hand, nor eye, nor blood, nor tears, nor
earth, nor Heaven could evermore efface--Death!... Though my very soul
trembled so as to make the syllables dance before my eyes, I read at
last these words:
"Prove yourself a man! Submit yourself to the will of Him whose ways
are not our ways; expect her no longer! ... Look for her no more on
earth, she has returned to heaven, calling on your name.... Thursday at
sunrise.... She told me all before she died; ... she directed me to
send you her last thoughts, which she wrote down till the very instant
her hand grew cold while tracing your name.... Love her in Christ, who
loved us unto death, and live for your mother!
"ALAIN."