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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 113
disguise your feelings? You have yourself admitted in
one of your letters that it is a mask. I hope it is, I can
see it is, and yet it hurts me, for it makes me think
that I have committed a fault of some sort . . . and I
wonder : What is he tliinking of me ?
" I am jealous of your friendship ; I am afraid that some
day you might despise me. Tell me that it will never hap-
pen ! You must be good and loyal to me. You must forget
that I am a woman—don’t I only too often forget it myself !
" I was not angry with you for what you said yesterday,
but it surprised and pained me. Do you really believe
me capable of wanting to excite my husband’s jealousy for
the sake of taking a mean revenge ? Think of the danger
to which I should expose myself if I attempted to win him
back through jealousy ! What should I gain ? His
anger would fall upon your head, and we should for ever
be separated ! And what would become of me without
you, who are dearer to me than life !
’’
I love you with a sister’s tenderness, not with the
whims of a coquette. ... It is true that I have known
moments when I longed, when it would have been heaven,
to take your head into my hands, to look deep into your
dear eyes, so full of wisdom ; and I am sure I should have
kissed you on your forehead, but never in your life A\ould
you have received a purer kiss.
" I am not responsible for my affectionate temperament,
and if you were a woman, I should love you just as much,
provided that I could respect a woman as highly as I
respect 3’ou. . . .
" Your opinion of Matilda makes me very happy. One
has to be a woman to be pleased about such a thing.
But what am I to do? Think of my position in case
everybody sided with her ! And I am to blame for wliat-
ever happens. I encouraged this flirtation because I
considered it no more serious than a child’s game. Feel-
I
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