This similarity of circumstances between my old friend and myself--for your family also, my Eva, is of French origin, and long settled in a foreign land--has only served to augment my sympathy for him.

Unfortunately, he has long had to mourn the loss of the wife whom he adored.
"See, my beloved Eva! my hand trembles as I write these words.

I am weak--I am foolish--but, alas! my heart sinks within me.

If such a misfortune were to happen to me--Oh, my God!--what would become of our child without thee--without his father--in that barbarous country?
But no! the very fear is madness; and yet what a horrible torture is uncertainty! Where may you now be?
What are you doing?
What has become of you?
Pardon these black thoughts, which are sometimes too much for me.

They are the cause of my worst moments--for, when free from them, I can at least say to myself: I am proscribed, I am every way unfortunate--but, at the other end of the world, two hearts still beat for me with affection--yours, my Eva, and our child's!" Rose could hardly finish this passage; for some seconds her voice was broken by sobs.