First Part Chapter 31

RENEE DE L'ESTORADE TO LOUISE DE MACUMER

It is nearly five months now since baby was born, and not once, dear
heart, have I found a single moment for writing to you. When you are a
mother yourself, you will be more ready to excuse me, than you are
now; for you have punished me a little bit in making your own letters
so few and far between.

Do write, my darling! Tell me of your
pleasures; lay on the blue as brightly as you please. It will not hurt
me, for I am happy now, happier than you can imagine.

I went in state to the parish church to hear the Mass for recovery
from childbirth, as is the custom in the old families of Provence. I
was supported on either side by the two grandfathers--Louis' father
and my own.

Never had I knelt before God with such a flood of
gratitude in my heart. I have so much to tell you of, so many feelings
to describe, that I don't know where to begin; but from amidst these
confused memories, one rises distinctly, that of my prayer in the
church.

When I found myself transformed into a joyful mother, on the very spot
where, as a girl, I had trembled for my future, it seemed to my fancy
that the Virgin on the altar bowed her head and pointed to the infant
Christ, who smiled at me! My heart full of pure and heavenly love, I
held out little Armand for the priest to bless and bathe, in
anticipation of the regular baptism to come later. But you will see us
together then, Armand and me.