than all else to social success. Your springtime is short,
endeavor to make the most of it. Cultivate influential women.

Influential women are old women; they will teach you the
intermarriages and the secrets of all the families of the great

world; they will show you the cross-roads which will bring you
soonest to your goal. They will be fond of you. The bestowal of

protection is their last form of love--when they are not devout.
They will do you innumerable good services; sing your praises and

make you desirable to society. Avoid young women. Do not think I
say this from personal self-interest. The woman of fifty will do

all for you, the woman of twenty will do nothing; she wants your
whole life while the other asks only a few attentions. Laugh with

the young women, meet them for pastime merely; they are incapable
of serious thought. Young women, dear friend, are selfish, vain,

petty, ignorant of true friendship; they love no one but
themselves; they would sacrifice you to an evening's success.

Besides, they all want absolutedevotion, and your present
situation requires that devotion be shown to you; two

irreconcilable needs! None of these young women would enter into
your interests; they would think of themselves and not of you;

they would injure you more by their emptiness and frivolity than
they could serve you by their love; they will waste your time

unscrupulously, hinder your advance to fortune, and end by
destroying your future with the best grace possible. If you

complain, the silliest of them will make you think that her glove
is more precious than fortune, and that nothing is so glorious as

to be her slave. They will all tell you that they bestow
happiness, and thus lull you to forget your nobler destiny.

Believe me, the happiness they give is transitory; your great
career will endure. You know not with what perfidious cleverness

they contrive to satisfy their caprices, nor the art with which
they will convert your passing fancy into a love which ought to be

eternal. The day when they abandon you they will tell you that the
words, "I no longer love you," are a full justification of their

conduct, just as the words, "I love," justified their winning you;
they will declare that love is involuntary and not to be coerced.

Absurd! Believe me, dear, true love is eternal, infinite, always
like unto itself; it is equable, pure, without violent

demonstration; white hair often covers the head but the heart that
holds it is ever young. No such love is found among the women of

the world; all are playing comedy; this one will interest you by
her misfortunes; she seems the gentlest and least exacting of her

sex, but when once she is necessary to you, you will feel the
tyranny of weakness and will do her will; you may wish to be a

diplomat, to go and come, and study men and interests,--no, you
must stay in Paris, or at her country-place, sewn to her

petticoat, and the more devotion you show the more ungrateful and
exacting she will be. Another will attract you by her

submissiveness; she will be your attendant, follow you
romantically about, compromise herself to keep you, and be the

millstone about your neck. You will drown yourself some day, but
the woman will come to the surface.

The least manoeuvring of these women of the world have many nets.
The silliest triumph because too foolish to excitedistrust. The

one to be feared least may be the woman of gallantry whom you love
without exactly knowing why; she will leave you for no motive and

go back to you out of vanity. All these women will injure you,
either in the present or the future. Every young woman who enters

society and lives a life of pleasure and of gratified vanity is
semi-corrupt and will corrupt you. Among them you will not find

the chaste and tranquil being in whom you may forever reign. Ah!
she who loves you will love solitude; the festivals of her heart

will be your glances; she will live upon your words. May she be
all the world to you, for you will be all in all to her. Love her

well; give her neither griefs nor rivals; do not rouse her
jealousy. To be loved, dear, to be comprehended, is the greatest

of all joys; I pray that you may taste it! But run no risk of
injuring the flower of your soul; be sure, be very sure of the

heart in which you place your affections. That woman will never be
her own self; she will never think of herself, but of you. She

will never oppose you, she will have no interests of her own; for
you she will see a danger where you can see none and where she

would be oblivious of her own. If she suffers it will be in
silence; she will have no personal vanity, but deep reverence for

whatever in her has won your love. Respond to such a love by
surpassing it. If you are fortunate enough to find that which I,

your poor friend, must ever be without, I mean a love mutually
inspired, mutually felt, remember that in a valley lives a mother

whose heart is so filled with the feelings you have put there that
you can never sound its depths. Yes, I bear you an affection which

you will never know to its full extent; before it could show
itself for what it is you would have to lose your mind and

intellect, and then you would be unable to comprehend the length
and breadth of my devotion.

Shall I be misunderstood in bidding you avoid young women (all
more or less artful, satirical, vain, frivolous, and extravagant)

and attach yourself to influential women, to those imposing
dowagers full of excellent good-sense, like my aunt, who will help

your career, defend you from attacks, and say for you the things
that you cannot say for yourself? Am I not, on the contrary,

generous in bidding you reserve your love for the coming angel
with the guileless heart? If the motto Noblesse oblige sums up the

advice I gave you just now, my further advice on your relations to
women is based upon that other motto of chivalry, "Serve all, love

one!"
Your educational knowledge is immense; your heart, saved by early

suffering, is without a stain; all is noble, all is well with you.
Now, Felix, WILL! Your future lies in that one word, that word of

great men. My child, you will obey your Henriette, will you not?
You will permit her to tell you from time to time the thoughts

that are in her mind of you and of your relations to the world? I
have an eye in my soul which sees the future for you as for my

children; suffer me to use that faculty for your benefit; it is a
faculty, a mysterious gift bestowed by my lonely life; far from

its growing weaker, I find it strengthened and exalted by solitude
and silence.

I ask you in return to bestow a happiness on me; I desire to see
you becoming more and more important among men, without one single

success that shall bring a line of shame upon my brow; I desire
that you may quickly bring your fortunes to the level of your

noble name, and be able to tell me I have contributed to your
advancement by something better than a wish. This secret

co-operation in your future is the only pleasure I can allow
myself. For it, I will wait and hope.

I do not say farewell. We are separated; you cannot put my hand to
your lips, but you must surely know the place you hold in the

heart of your
Henriette.

As I read this letter I felt the maternal heart beating beneath my
fingers which held the paper while I was still cold from the harsh

greeting of my own mother. I understood why the countess had forbidden
me to open it in Touraine; no doubt she feared that I would fall at

her feet and wet them with my tears.
I now made the acquaintance of my brother Charles, who up to this time

had been a stranger to me. But in all our intercourse he showed a
haughtiness which kept us apart and prevented brotherlyaffection.

Kindly feelings depend on similarity of soul, and there was no point
of touch between us. He preached to me dogmatically those social

trifles which head or heart can see without instruction; he seemed to
mistrust me. If I had not had the inward support of my great love he

would have made me awkward and stupid by affecting to believe that I
knew nothing of life. He presented me in society under the expectation

that my dulness would be a foil to his qualities. Had I not remembered
the sorrows of my childhood I might have taken his protecting vanity

for brotherlyaffection; but inwardsolitude produces the same effects
as outwardsolitude; silence within our souls enables us to hear the

faintest sound; the habit of takingrefuge within ourselves develops a
perception which discerns every quality of the affections about us.

Before I knew Madame de Mortsauf a hard look grieved me, a rough word