THE PRÉSIDENTE DE TOURVEL TO MADAME DE ROSEMONDE
THE VEIL IS RENT, Madame, upon which was painted the illusion of my happiness. Grim truth enlightens me, and shows me naught but a sure and speedy death, the road to which is traced between shame and remorse. I will follow it, … I will cherish my torments, if they cut short my existence. I send you the letter which I received yesterday; I will add no reflections on it, it contains them all. The time has passed for complaint; nothing is left but to suffer. It is not pity I need, but strength.
Receive, Madame, the one farewell that I shall utter, and grant my last prayer; it is to leave me to my fate, to forget me utterly, to consider me no longer upon the earth. There is a stage of misery in which even friendship augments our sufferings and cannot heal them. When wounds are mortal, all succor becomes inhuman. All emotion is foreign to me save that of despair. Nothing can befit me now save the profound darkness in which I will bury my shame. There I will weep over my faults, if I can still weep; for since yesterday I have not shed a tear. My withered heart no longer furnishes any.
Adieu, Madame. Do not answer me. I have made a vow upon that cruel letter never to receive another.
PARIS, 27TH NOVEMBER, 17–.