"I did not seek complex happiness. She whose outlook on life I have tried to broaden will never know how she has disappointed my hopes. I did not ask the impossible of her. She was satisfied to accept her lot. But so often one does not know the meaning of that word: to accept. "Am I quite sure that I am not seeking excuses for the passion which absorbs me? Elizabeth has held herself aloof from what is essential to my life. Had she not done so, would I be more certain of my heart? There is always within us something unknown which circumstances reveal to us, and surprised, we find ourselves to be on the borders of youth, richer in desire and weaker in will. "I observe this ebb and flow of contradictory emotions. Does not each and everyone of them indicate some portion of my ego? Happy are those who realize unity within themselves and know their own limitations! I have left off the work I had in hand to undertake a new work. I am applying myself enthusiastically to it, and when I stop short, I am exhausted. I find myself in turn more powerful and weaker. Exaltation is only a transitory condition, and without it I am helpless." "October 25th: As each day passes, it speaks to me of separation, of absence. The restriction of our liberty will be painful to me. And the precarious season adds its restlessness to that growing in me. "This evening it was so fine that we went to the Bois in an open carriage. It takes us a long time to choose the horses when we drive together--she will not permit the coachman to whip them. "'Where are the English vehicles?' she asks with regret. "We walked side by side in the Allée of Mortemart, near Auteuil. It is a road little frequented, and there the dead leaves had not been swept away. They were heaped up at the edges. As the wind rose, they began to turn about in a whirl and then lay down again. Those remaining on the branches rustled with a crackling noise. We waited to see them fall. When we returned, Anne pointed them out to me: "'It seems as though we are abandoning defenseless beings.' "And just then one of them broke off, hesitated an instant, then blew on my knees, as a butterfly struck by death. It was a golden beech leaf. I looked at Anne and noticed her pallor. "'You are cold?' I asked. "'A little,' she answered. "The sun had set without our noticing it. Dampness was rising from the ground; the morning rain had not had time to dry. The mist was still under the trees. The air we were breathing was full of malaria germs. Lacking a better covering, I asked the coachman for one, and wrapped it about her shoulders. She did not refuse it and smiled to thank me. She had never seemed more delicately charming to me. At the Porte Dauphiné we found a closed carriage."