I live as in another world since this revelation. “The holy angels will come and take me,” said Picciola. Margaret, Berthe, Thérèse, Gertrude, and I succeed each other in watching by her. “All my body is broken!” she exclaimed in her delirium; otherwise, never a complaint. She prays, and likes to hear singing; she is full of tenderness. I have no news of Edith. Anna has written from Lyons. Pray for those who remain, dear Kate! OCTOBER 1, 1869. She has received the last sacraments; her room exhales the perfume of incense. We are all there, whispering prayers. _2d October._—She is in heaven! “Dear angels, thanks, I come!” And her soul fled away. Oh! how I suffer. I loved her too much! I write to you near to _her_—near to _her_ who is no longer there. I could have wished to follow her when the _abbé_ said: “Go forth from this world, Christian soul!” Did you know her well, this flower of heaven whose fragrance was so sweet; this soul, open to every noble sentiment; this exceptional understanding, which assimilated everything and was ever advancing? My mother is well-nigh broken down; Berthe is kneeling, and still kissing this brow so pure, these eyes whose gaze we shall behold no more. Raoul and Thérèse weep together; Gertrude occupies herself in attending to the sad details; and as for me, I would pour upon this paper all the desolation of my heart. Shall I have the courage to paint her thus—inanimate—dead? O my God! it is, then, true? That caressing arm will never again pass itself round my neck. That beloved voice will no longer resound in my ears. That aërial footstep will no more reveal her presence. She is gone! She was full of life, and freely, voluntarily she has accepted death and has left us alone. Kate, how shall I pray, how shall I bless God? If you knew how I loved her! OCTOBER 12, 1869. I am beginning to rise up. For ten days I have been in a state of delirium. I saw Madeleine constantly by me, spoke to her, told her to wait for me—that I did not wish to live without her. René was in despair; but his prayers and yours have been heard. A strange calm has succeeded to the disorder of my thoughts; I have the certainty that Picciola and Edith have entered into everlasting rest. Yes, Edith! How did I learn that she was dead? I do not know, but René saw that I knew it and no longer sought to hide it from me. Adrien leaves us to-day to go and bring hither Mary and Ellen, and also Mistress Annah, who is wanted by Margaret. They compel me to stop. I love you. OCTOBER 20, 1869. I am still weak, dear Kate, but my soul is strengthened. Let us love God, let us love God! I went at noon to the cemetery, to the beloved grave. René accompanied me. Oh! how he also loved her. How sweet she was when she spoke of him! Raoul has taken Berthe and Thérèse into Normandy for a fortnight; their intense grief made him anxious. It is all like a dream; but, alas! _she_ is no longer here. Let us so live that we may rejoin her!