This was as much of her letter as Clémence saw fit to read aloud. One more paragraph may, however, be given here: “My beloved, I read every day the little book you gave me.” (The parting gifts of Clémence to her betrothed had been the sketch of his mother pencilled by her father’s hand, and that treasury of heavenward aspiration, so loved by devout and earnest souls like hers, the “Imitation of Christ.”) “It is grand and beautiful, but terrible to me. I feel more and more, as I read, how full of sin, how utterly unworthy and vile I am--how far from being wholly detached from the world and given up to Christ. Then I go back to my Bible, and that makes me feel my own unworthiness yet more deeply; but it also makes me think of the love of God and the gentleness of Christ, and thinking upon these I have hope. There are some words of yours that often come to my mind. You said that the day you saw me first, lying wounded in the hospital, you were surprised and touched to hear me say I could not help rejoicing in the triumph of my Czar, though _I_ had no share in it. You said it made you think that if you truly loved your King and Saviour, you would be able even thus to rejoice in him, however it might be with yourself. When I read his own good and gracious words, and think what he is, and what he has done for us, I seem to understand your meaning. But I am very ignorant; and oh, how I need you to teach me--you, beloved, so much wiser and better than I. I often marvel how you deigned to care for me at all. I think it could not have come about had not a ray of light reflected from my Czar fallen upon me.” The letter did not by any means end there; but there may fitly end the extracts presented to the general reader. Of course many courteous and grateful messages to Madame de Salgues, Madame de Talmont, and Henri found a place ere it was concluded, and these were duly delivered by Clémence. About a week afterwards another letter arrived, and Henri had now returned to share its tidings. At first Clémence did not read any part of it aloud; she only told its contents more or less fully. Afterwards she read some portions of it to her mother. It ran thus:-- “ST. PETERSBURG, _Wednesday Night_.