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not know the meaning of that delicious pain. But oh, my dear friend, it has become a terrible thing since I know I may never see him again. My heart is breaking with it. Mère de Dieu! I can no longer laugh or jest or pretend to be happy. What shall I say? That I had rather die than live without him? No; that is not enough. I had rather be an old maid and live only with the thought of him than marry another, if he were a king. I remember those words of yours, 'I know he loves you.' Oh, my dear Thérèse, what a comfort they are to me now! I repeat them often. If I could only say, 'I know'! Alas! I can but say, 'I do not know,' nay, even, 'I do not believe.' If I had not been a fool I should have made him tell me, for I had him over his ears in love with me one day, or I am no judge of a man. But, you know, they are so fickle! And then the Yankee girls are pretty and so clever. Well, they shall not have him if I can help it. When I return there shall be war, if necessary, between France and America. And, Thérèse, you know I have weapons, and you have done me the honor to say I know how to use them. I have told Louise, and—what do you think?—the poor thing cried an hour—for pity of me! As ever, she makes my trouble her own. I have been selfish always, but I know the cure. It is love