“When I stopped writing to you last night, I went to bed and to rest my poor head. I read for half an hour that lovely romance of _Paul and Virginia_. My candle went out. Just like that, four years ago, some hours earlier--one of the world’s choicest treasures went out to.... I gave myself up to sad thoughts; I imagined to myself all that she, so lowly tormented, must have suffered then. But somehow I fell asleep, and I slept on until the fatal hour when _She_ must have realized how few more hours were left to her on that earth where she was so worshipped. All my thoughts were fixed on her, I lay awake for several hours in great agitation; then I went to sleep again, and at eight o’clock I was awakened so as to go to hear the mass where her loved name should fall once more upon my ears. I set off, accompanied by a French nobleman, whom I love and esteem, because he regrets his Sovereigns as I do. His kind heart comforted mine; the time I spent with him instilled solace into my soul, and I was not so unhappy when I came back from mass. I constantly read over with him all that I have written, especially all that I remember _her_ having said in and before the days of her long martyrdom. He will put it all in order, and make these fragments as interesting as they ought to be. I was interrupted in this occupation by a man who belongs to this place, and whom I met in France, when LL.MM.II. came there to see the objects of my love and sorrow. This man--whom I like better than any other I have met here--has given me a thousand proofs of his interest in me, which I prize as coming from a heart like his. He knew the anniversary, and spoke to me reverently of it; he is the only person I have seen to-day. But my dear Charlotte, I must shut out all extraneous thoughts and think only that She exists no more, and that her end was hastened by the villany and foul revenge of human beings, formerly her subjects, formerly her worshippers, beings with hearts--no! they had no hearts, since they shed ... since they put an end to that existence ... when her rank, her character, her face.... “Last year I was with you all through this day; we wept together for the Queen of Love; to-day, alone with my sad heart, I can only write to you. Distance separates our bodies; but our souls and our thoughts and our feelings are the same, and I know that Charlotte and Louise are together to-day.” * * * * * _After dinner._