First Part Chapter 28

RENEE DE L'ESTORADE TO LOUISE DE MACUMER
December.

My thrice happy Louise, your letter made me dizzy. For a few moments I
held it in my listless hands, while a tear or two sparkled on it in
the setting sun. I was alone beneath the small barren rock where I
have had a seat placed; far off, like a lance of steel, the
Mediterranean shone.

The seat is shaded by aromatic shrubs, and I have
had a very large jessamine, some honeysuckle, and Spanish brooms
transplanted there, so that some day the rock will be entirely covered
with climbing plants. The wild vine has already taken root there. But
winter draws near, and all this greenery is faded like a piece of old
tapestry. In this spot I am never molested; it is understood that here
I wish to be alone. It is named Louise's seat--a proof, is it not,
that even in solitude I am not alone here?

If I tell you all these details, to you so paltry, and try to describe
the vision of green with which my prophetic gaze clothes this bare
rock--on which top some freak of nature has set up a magnificent
parasol pine--it is because in all this I have found an emblem to
which I cling.

It was while your blessed lot was filling me with joy and--must I
confess it?--with bitter envy too, that I felt the first movement of
my child within, and this mystery of physical life reacted upon the
inner recesses of my soul. This indefinable sensation, which partakes
of the nature at once of a warning, a delight, a pain, a promise, and
a fulfilment; this joy, which is mine alone, unshared by mortal, this
wonder of wonders, has whispered to me that one day this rock shall be
a carpet of flowers, resounding to the merry laughter of children,
that I shall at last be blessed among women, and from me shall spring
forth fountains of life.