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<h2> XXXIX. THE BARONNE DE MACUMER TO THE VICOMTESSE DE L'ESTORADE </h2>
<p>Your atrocious letter has reached me here, the steward having forwarded
it by my orders. Oh! Renee... but I will spare you the outburst of my
wounded feelings, and simply tell you the effect your letter produced.</p>
<p>We had just returned from a delightful reception given in our honor
by the ambassador, where I appeared in all my glory, and Macumer was
completely carried away in a frenzy of love which I could not describe.
Then I read him your horrible answer to my letter, and I read it
sobbing, at the risk of making a fright of myself. My dear Arab fell at
my feet, declaring that you raved. Then he carried me off to the balcony
of the palace where we are staying, from which we have a view over
part of the city; there he spoke to me words worthy of the magnificent
moonlight scene which lay stretched before us. We both speak Italian
now, and his love, told in that voluptuous tongue, so admirably adapted
to the expression of passion, sounded in my ears like the most exquisite
poetry. He swore that, even were you right in your predictions, he
would not exchange for a lifetime a single one of our blessed nights
or charming mornings. At this reckoning he has already lived a thousand
years. He is content to have me for his mistress, and would claim
no other title than that of lover. So proud and pleased is he to see
himself every day the chosen of my heart, that were Heaven to offer
him the alternative between living as you would have us to for another
thirty years with five children, and five years spent amid the dear
roses of our love, he would not hesitate. He would take my love, such as
it is, and death.</p>
<p>While he was whispering this in my ear, his arm round me, my head
resting on his shoulder, the cries of a bat, surprised by an owl,
disturbed us. This death-cry struck me with such terror that Felipe
carried me half-fainting to my bed. But don't be alarmed! Though
this augury of evil still resounds in my soul, I am quite myself this
morning. As soon as I was up, I went to Felipe, and, kneeling before
him, my eyes fixed on his, his hands clasped in mine, I said to him:—</p>
<p>"My love, I am a child, and Renee may be right after all. It may be only
your love that I love in you; but at least I can assure you that this
is the one feeling of my heart, and that I love you as it is given me to
love. But if there be aught in me, in my lightest thought or deed, which
jars on your wishes or conception of me, I implore you to tell me, to
say what it is. It will be a joy to me to hear you and to take your eyes
as the guiding-stars of my life. Renee has frightened me, for she is a
true friend."</p>
<p>Macumer could not find voice to reply, tears choked him.</p>
<p>I can thank you now, Renee. But for your letter I should not have known
the depths of love in my noble, kingly Macumer. Rome is the city of
love; it is there that passion should celebrate its feast, with art and
religion as confederates.</p>
<p>At Venice we shall find the Duc and Duchesse de Soria. If you write,
address now to Paris, for we shall leave Rome in three days. The
ambassador's was a farewell party.</p>
<p>P. S.—Dear, silly child, your letter only shows that you knew nothing
of love, except theoretically. Learn then that love is a quickening
force which may produce fruits so diverse that no theory can embrace or
co-ordinate them. A word this for my little Professor with her armor of
stays.</p>
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