"No, the passion you inspire is not blind; but it honours and becomes one like a virtue. Now there is a last favour to ask of you; you will not grant it if it be inopportunely asked, but if, on the other hand, you do concede it, you will easily comprehend how great a consolation it will be to the heart that is filled with your image. To be allowed to write to you from time to time would be much desired, not to speak to you of a love which will never again raise its voice, but to make you hear sometimes the accents of a friendly voice, '_your heart is not free, and you love without hope._' "This confidence may have cost you something, it may impose duties because it may presage griefs. Those who have suffered ought to repair to those who suffer; and if your love continues unhappy, perhaps in the midst of your sorrows you would hail with gratitude the consolation of a tender and devoted heart, which, better than any other, may compassionate your sorrow. "Should you be happy, you will be generous, and you will find some kind and gentle words for the unknown friend, whose own griefs will be forgotten in the knowledge of your sufferings or happiness. You are so frank that you do not suspect the frankness of others. The end of this correspondence is not to lay a snare for your affection, or to profit by a moment's anger to offer again to you a heart you have rejected: you will believe this because you know that there are souls worthy of your own: you will believe this because whatever may happen, you will never learn who has written to you. "Finally, you will see in this resolution neither offended pride nor bitterness. The elevation of feeling which dictates this letter places it out of the pale of such wretched passions. Destiny has willed that this offer of a devoted heart should be made to you too soon or too late. Still that heart is no less yours, that is to say, is still worthy of you. "Reply '_poste-restante_' to the same address." The calm and dignity of this fresh letter struck De Morville, and he was touched by it in spite of the preoccupation of his mind for the love of Madame de Hansfeld. He replied with his usual sincerity:-- "I accept with gratitude the offer you make me--my heart is indeed sad: I have never had a confidant, but I should greatly like to give utterance to my feelings, not to recount agreeable or painful facts, and confidants disturb persons, but not sentiments. I may, therefore, find a great charm, a vast comfort in breathing forth my sorrows or my hopes, or in having myself pitied if I suffer, or congratulated if I am happy, by the mysterious and generous friend I have acquired. "LEON DE MORVILLE."