Delightful, and yet serious life, this, that we have planned for our fair patient and her sole child. What charming solitude in this short widowhood. How new the situation. No housekeeping, no business. With her boy, she is even more alone than she would be without him. But for him she would be intruded upon by reverie and vain fancies. But her innocent guardian, her boy, keeps all such fancies away. He occupies her, causes her to talk, and talks to her of home, and he thus constantly reminds her of him who, in their far off home, is toiling for them, and she counts the days to her return. Flourish, pure and amiable woman. You are now even younger than ever, you have become a girl again, free, sweetly free, under the guardianship of your boy. CHAPTER IV. FIRST ASPIRATION OF THE SEA. It is a great and sudden transition to leave Paris in the beautiful month of June when the great city is resplendent with its magnificent gardens and its chestnut trees in bloom. June would be delightful on the coast if one had a single companion and the crowd had not arrived. But when one is alone on the deserted, with the great sea, we are touched with a sort of melancholy. On a first visit to the coast the impression made is not very favorable. There is aridity, there is wildness, and yet there is a certain monotony. The novel grandeur of the spectacle makes us feel, by contrast, how weak and small we are, and that thought thrills the heart. The delicate chest that so lately was confined in a chamber, and now finds itself suddenly removed to this vast open chamber of the universe, with the sun shining so brightly and the sea breeze blowing so strongly, feels oppressed. The child comes, goes, and the mother sits down, shivering in the free fresh breeze. The warmth of the home she has but just left comes to her mind and she saddens. But her boy frolics gaily and that soon consoles her. All this will soon pass away Madame. Be resolute; your impressions will be very different when you become better acquainted with the Sea and think of its myriads of inhabitants. And that painful constriction of the lungs will pass away too, when you become accustomed to the free atmosphere of the sea. You require time to accustom yourself to it, by and by, not thinking about it, as your boy plays with you in sheltered nooks, you will breathe freely and your chest will dilate without pain and without conscious effort. But, just at first, I advise you not to stay too long at a time on the beach, but rather to take your walk inland.