“How happy she would have been this winter—all her children near her, the war finished for George and Louis, the birth of Virginie’s child, and, I may add, after an illness which, owing to our past fears, would have made her doubly dear to us. Had she not to the last, the kindness of thinking of my amusements at La Grange, of my farm, of all that was of daily interest to me! When I spoke to her of returning home: ‘Ah!’ she said, ‘that would be too delicious. My God, my God!’ she exclaimed, ‘six more poor years of La Grange!’ She wanted to return there with me, and begged of me to start before her. I entreated her to allow me to stay, and asked her to rest a little. She promised to do her best; and as she became calmer, ‘Well,’ she said, ‘remain, wait a little; I shall go quietly to sleep.’ “The disordered state of her brain did not prevent her having misgivings as to her approaching end. The night which preceded the last I heard her saying to her nurse, ‘Do not leave me; tell me when I am to die.’ At my approach her fears subsided; but when I spoke to her of recovery, of returning to La Grange: ‘Oh no! I am going to die. Have you any cause of complaint against me?’ “‘For what, my dear? you have always been so good and so loving!’ “‘Have I, then, been a gentle companion to you?’ “‘Yes; assuredly.’ “‘Well, then, give me your blessing.’ “On all these last evenings, when she thought I was going to leave her, she would ask for my blessing. “I spoke to her of the happiness of our union; of my tenderness. She took pleasure in hearing me repeat the assurance of my love. ‘Promise me,’ she said, ‘to preserve that affection forever. Promise me.’ “You may well believe that I promised. “‘Are you satisfied with your children?’ she added. “I told her how completely they satisfied me. “‘They are very good,’ she said; ‘support them with all your love for me.’ “Then delirium coming on again, ‘How do you think they feel with respect to the house of Jacob?’ “I assured her that they entered into all her feelings. “‘Ah!’ she replied, ‘my feelings are very moderate, except those I have for you.’ “Twice only her excitement became intense. It was then the wanderings of maternal love. One day George, to prevent her speaking too much, had for several hours kept away from her room. When he came in again, she evidently thought he had just returned from the army. The wildness of her joy on seeing him made her heart beat in a fearful manner. Another time she fell into an ecstasy of joy at the thought of an anniversary dear to our hearts—of the day when, twenty-eight years before, she had given me George. That anniversary was the day of her death.