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I whom he does not deceive。 He is a mate for her in courage。
Louise has expressed a wish to see her godson； but I am not sorry he
should be in Provence； she might want to remember him generously； and
I should be in a great difficulty。
Good…bye； my love。
August 25th （her birthday）。
Yesterday evening Louise was delirious for a short time； but her
delirium was the prettiest babbling； which shows that even the madness
of gifted people is not that of fools or nobodies。 In a mere thread of
a voice she sang some Italian airs from /I Puritani； La Sonnambula；
Moise/； while we stood round the bed in silence。 Not one of us； not
even the Duc de Rhetore； had dry eyes； so clear was it to us all that
her soul was in this fashion passing from us。 She could no longer see
us！ Yet she was there still in the charm of the faint melody； with its
sweetness not of this earth。
During the night the death agony began。 It is now seven in the
morning； and I have just myself raised her from bed。 Some flicker of
strength revived； she wished to sit by her window； and asked for
Gaston's hand。 And then； my love； the sweetest spirit whom we shall
ever see on this earth departed； leaving us the empty shell。
The last sacrament had been administered the evening before； unknown
to Gaston； who was taking a snatch of sleep during this agonizing
ceremony； and after she was moved to the window； she asked me to read
her the /De Profundis/ in French； while she was thus face to face with
the lovely scene； which was her handiwork。 She repeated the words
after me to herself； and pressed the hands of her husband； who knelt
on the other side of the chair。
August 26th。
My heart is broken。 I have just seen her in her winding…sheet； her
face is quite pale now with purple shadows。 Oh！ I want my children！ my
children！ Bring me my children！
THE END