My darling,--When you hold this letter in your hands, I shall be already
near, for I am starting a few minutes after it. We shall be alone
together. Louis is obliged to remain in Provence because of the
approaching elections. He wants to be elected again, and the Liberals
are already plotting against his return.
I don't come to comfort you; I only bring you my heart to beat in
sympathy with yours, and help you to bear with life. I come to bid you
weep, for only with tears can you purchase the joy of meeting him again.
Remember, he is traveling towards Heaven, and every step forward which
you take brings you nearer to him. Every duty done breaks a link in the
chain that keeps you apart.
Louise, in my arms you will once more raise your head and go on your way
to him, pure, noble, washed of all those errors, which had no root in
your heart, and bearing with you the harvest of good deeds which, in his
name, you will accomplish here.
I scribble these hasty lines in all the bustle of preparation, and
interrupted by the babies and by Armand, who keeps saying, "Godmother,
godmother! I want to see her," till I am almost jealous. He might be
your child!