Ah! dearest, what happiness in having at all hours an enormous interest, which multiplies the fibres of the heart and varies them indefinitely! to feel no longer cold indifference! to find one's very life depending on a thousand trifles!--on a walk where an eye will beam to us from a crowd, on a glance which pales the sun! Ah! what intoxication, dear, to live! to _live_ when other women are praying on their knees for emotions that never come to them! Remember, darling, that for this poem of delight there is but a single moment,--youth! In a few years winter comes, and cold.

Ah! if you possessed these living riches of the heart, and were threatened with the loss of them--" Madame du Tillet, terrified, had covered her face with her hands during the passionate utterance of this anthem.
"I did not even think of reproaching you, my beloved," she said at last, seeing her sister's face bathed in hot tears.

"You have cast into my soul, in one moment, more brands than I have tears to quench.

Yes, the life I live would justify to my heart a love like that you picture.

Let me believe that if we could have seen each other oftener, we should not now be where we are.