"'Thus you will be at home in your new house exactly as you are in
the Rue Saint-Maur; unapproachable, alone, occupied as you please,
living by your own law; but having in addition the legitimate
protection, of which you are now exacting the most chivalrous labors
of love, with the consideration which lends so much lustre to a woman,
and the fortune which will allow of your doing many good works.
Honorine, when you long for an unnecessary absolution, you have only
to ask for it; it will not be forced upon you by the Church or by the
Law; it will wait on your pride, on your own impulsion. My wife might
indeed have to fear all the things you dread; but not my friend and
sister, towards whom I am bound to show every form and refinement of
politeness. To see you happy is enough happiness for me; I have proved
this for the seven years past. The guarantee for this, Honorine, is to
be seen in all the flowers made by you, carefully preserved, and
watered by my tears. Like the _quipos_, the tally cords of the
Peruvians, they are the record of our sorrows.

"'If this secret compact does not suit you, my child, I have begged
the saintly man who takes charge of this letter not to say a word in
my behalf. I will not owe your return to the terrors threatened by the
Church, nor to the bidding of the Law. I will not accept the simple
and quiet happiness that I ask from any one but yourself. If you
persist in condemning me to the lonely life, bereft even of a
fraternal smile, which I have led for nine years, if you remain in
your solitude and show no sign, my will yields to yours. Understand me
perfectly: you shall be no more troubled that you have been until this
day. I will get rid of the crazy fellow who has meddled in your
concerns, and has perhaps caused you some annoyance . . .'