letters of two brides-第25章

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with　you；　and　have　no　secrets　from　him；　we　are　always　giving　each
other　surprises。

Dear　Renee；　Felipe　and　Louise；　the　pair　of　lovers；　want　to　send　a
present　to　the　young　mother。　We　would　like　to　get　something　that　would
give　you　pleasure；　and　we　don't　share　the　popular　taste　for　surprises；
so　tell　me　quite　frankly；　please；　what　you　would　like。　It　ought　to　be
something　which　would　recall　us　to　you　in　a　pleasant　way；　something
which　you　will　use　every　day；　and　which　won't　wear　out　with　use。　The
meal　which　with　us　is　most　cheerful　and　friendly　is　lunch；　and
therefore　the　idea　occurred　to　me　of　a　special　luncheon　service；
ornamented　with　figures　of　babies。　If　you　approve　of　this；　let　me　know
at　once；　for　it　will　have　to　be　ordered　immediately　if　we　are　to　bring
it。　Paris　artists　are　gentlemen　of　far　too　much　importance　to　be
hurried。　This　will　be　my　offering　to　Lucina。

Farewell；　dear　nursing　mother。　May　all　a　mother's　delights　be　yours！　I
await　with　impatience　your　first　letter；　which　will　tell　me　all　about
it；　I　hope。　Some　of　the　details　in　your　husband's　letter　went　to　my
heart。　Poor　Renee；　a　mother　has　a　heavy　price　to　pay。　I　will　tell　my
godson　how　dearly　he　must　love　you。　No　end　of　love；　my　sweet　one。



XXXI

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　grandfathersLouis'　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。

My　childcome　see　how　readily　the　word　comes；　and　indeed　there　is
none　sweeter　to　a　mother's　heart　and　mind　or　on　her　lipswell；　then；
dear　child；　during　the　last　two　months　I　used　to　drag　myself　wearily
and　heavily　about　the　gardens；　not　realizing　yet　how　precious　was　the
burden；　spite　of　all　the　discomforts　it　brought！　I　was　haunted　by
forebodings　so　gloomy　and　ghastly；　that　they　got　the　better　even　of
curiosity；　in　vain　did　I　picture　the　delights　of　motherhood。　My　heart
made　no　response　even　to　the　thought　of　the　little　one；　who　announced
himself　by　lively　kicking。　That　is　a　sensation；　dear；　which　may　be
welcome　when　it　is　familiar；　but　as　a　novelty；　it　is　more　strange　than
pleasing。　I　speak　for　myself　at　least；　you　know　I　would　never　affect
anything　I　did　not　really　feel；　and　I　look　on　my　child　as　a　gift
straight　from　Heaven。　For　one　who　saw　in　it　rather　the　image　of　the
man　she　loved；　it　might　be　different。

But　enough　of　such　sad　thoughts；　gone；　I　trust；　for　ever。

When　the　crisis　came；　I　summoned　all　my　powers　of　resistance；　and
braced　myself　so　well　for　suffering；　that　I　bore　the　horrible　agony
so　they　tell　mequite　marvelously。　For　about　an　hour　I　sank　into　a
sort　of　stupor；　of　the　nature　of　a　dream。　I　seemed　to　myself　then　two
beingsan　outer　covering　racked　and　tortured　by　red…hot　pincers；　and
a　soul　at　peace。　In　this　strange　state　the　pain　formed　itself　into　a
sort　of　halo　hovering　over　me。　A　gigantic　rose　seemed　to　spring　out　of
my　head　and　grow　ever　larger　and　larger；　till　it　enfolded　me　in　its
blood…red　petals。　The　same　color　dyed　the　air　around；　and　everything　I
saw　was　blood…red。　At　last　the　climax　came；　when　soul　and　body　seemed
no　longer　able　to　hold　together；　the　spasms　of　pain　gripped　me　like
death　itself。　I　screamed　aloud；　and　found　fresh　strength　against　this
fresh　torture。　Suddenly　this　concert　of　hideous　cries　was　overborne　by
a　joyful　soundthe　shrill　wail　of　the　newborn　infant。　No　words　can
describe　that　moment。　It　was　as　though　the　universe　took　part　in　my
cries；　when　all　at　once　the　chorus　of　pain　fell　hushed　before　the
child's　feeble　note。

They　laid　me　back　again　in　the　large　bed；　and　it　felt　like　paradise　to
me；　even　in　my　extreme　exhaustion。　Three　or　four　happy　faces　pointed
through　tears　to　the　child。　My　dear；　I　exclaimed　in　terror：

〃It's　just　like　a　little　monkey！　Are　you　really　and　truly　certain　it
is　a　child？〃

I　fell　back　on　my　side；　miserably　disappointed　at　my　first　experience
of　motherly　feeling。

〃Don't　worry；　dear；〃　said　my　mother；　who　had　installed　herself　as
nurse。　〃Why；　you've　got　the　finest　baby　in　the　world。　You　mustn't
excite　yourself；　but　give　your　whole　mind　now　to　turning　yourself　as
much　as　possible　into　an　animal；　a　milch　cow；　pasturing　in　the
meadow。〃

I　fell　asleep　then；　fully　resolved　to　let　nature　have　her　way。

Ah！　my　sweet；　how　heavenly　it　was　to　waken　up　from　all　the　pain　and
haziness　of　the　first　days；　when　everything　was　still　dim；
uncomfortable；　confused。　A　ray　of　light　pierced　the　darkness；　my　heart
and　soul；　my　inner　selfa　self　I　had　never　known　beforerent　the
envelope　of　gloomy　suffering；　as　a　flower　bursts　its　sheath　at　the
first　warm　kiss　of　the　sun；　at　the　moment　when　the　little　wretch
fastened　on　my　breast　and　sucked。　Not　even　the　sensation　of　the
child's　first　cry　was　so　exquisite　as　this。　This　is　the　dawn　of
motherhood；　this　is　the　/Fiat　lux/！

Here　is　happiness；　joy　ineffable；　though　it　comes　not　without　pangs。
Oh！　my　sweet　jealous　soul；　how　you　will　relish　a　delight　which　exists
only　for　ourselves；　the　child；　and　God！　For　this　tiny　creature　all
knowledge　is　summed　up　in　its　mother's　breast。　This　is　the　one　bright
spot　in　its　world；　towards　which　its　puny　strength　goes　forth。　Its
thoughts　cluster　round　this　spring　of　life；　which　it　leaves　only　to
sleep；　and　whither　it　returns　on　waking。　Its　lips　have　a　sweetness
beyond　words；　and　their　pressure　is　at　once　a　pain　and　a　delight；　a
delight　which　by　every　excess　becomes　pain；　or　a　pain　which　culminates
in　delight。　The　sensation　which　rises　from　it；　and　which　penetrates　to
the　very　core　of　my　life；　baffles　all　description。　It　seems　a　sort　of
centre　whence　a　myriad　joy…bearing　rays　gladden　the　heart　and　soul。　To
bear　a　child　is　nothing；　to　nourish　it　is　birth　renewed　every　hour。

Oh！　Louise；　there　is　no　caress　of　lover　with　half　the　power　of　those
little　pink　hands；　as　they　stray　about；　seeking　whereby　to　lay　hold　on
life。　And　the　infant　glances；　now　turned　upon　the　breast；　now　raised
to　meet　our　own！　What　dreams　come　to　us　as　we　watch　the　clinging
nursling！　All　our　powers；　whether　of　mind　or　body；　are　at　its　service；
for　it　we　breathe　and　think；　in　it　our　longings　are　more　than
satisfied！　The　sweet　sensation　of　warmth　at　the　heart；　which　the　sound
of　his　first　cry　brought　to　melike　the　first　ray　of　sunshine　on　the
earthcame　again　as　I　felt　the　milk　flow　into　his　mouth；　again　as　his
eyes　met　mine；　and　at　this　moment　I　have　felt　it　once　more　as　his
first　smile　gave　token　of　a　mind　working　withinfor　he　has　laughed；
my　dear！　A　laugh；　a　glance；　a　bite；　a　cryfour　miracles　of　gladness
which　go　straight　to　the　heart　and　strike　chords　that　respond　to　no
other　touch。　A　child　is　tied　to　our　heart…strings；　as　the　spheres　are
linked　to　their　creator；　we　cannot　think　of　God　except　as　a　mother's
heart　writ　large。

It　is　only　in　the　act　of　nursing　that　a　woman　realizes　her　motherhood
in　visible　and　tangible　fashion；　it　is　a　joy　of　every　moment。　The　milk
becomes　flesh　before　our　eyes；　it　blossoms　into　the　tips　of　those
delicate　flower…like　fingers；　it　expands　in　tender；　transparent　nails；
it　spins　the　silky　tresses；　it　kicks　in　the　little　feet。　Oh！　those
baby　feet；　how　plainly　they　talk　to　us！　In　them　the　child　finds　its
first　language。

Yes；　Louise；　nursing　is　a　miracle　of　transformation　going　on　before
one's　bewildered　eyes。　Those　cries；　they　go　to　your　heart　and　not　your
ears；　those　smiling　eyes　and　lips；　those　plunging　feet；　they　speak　in
words　which　could　not　be　plainer　if　God　traced　them　before　you　in
letters　of　fire！　What　else　is　there　in　the　world　to　care　about？　The
father？　Why；　you　could　kill　him　if　he　dreamed　of　waking　the　baby！　Just
as　the　child　is　the　world　to　us；　so　do　we　stand　alone　in　the　world　for
the　child。　The　sweet　consciousness　of　a　common　life　is　ample
recompense　for　all　the　trouble　and　sufferingfor　suffering　there　is。
Heaven　save　you；　Louise；　from　ever　knowing　the　maddening　agony　of　a
wound　which　gapes　afresh　with　every　pressure　of　rosy　lips；　and　is　so
hard　to　healthe　heaviest　tax　perhaps　imposed　on　beauty。　For　know；
Louise；　and　beware！　it　visits　only　a　fair　and　delicate　skin。

My　little　ape　has　in　five　months　developed　into　the　prettiest　darling
that　ever　mother　bathed　in　tears　of　joy；　washed；　brushed；　combed；　and
made　smart；　for　God　knows　what　unwearied　care　we　lavish　upon　those
tender　blossoms！　So　my　monkey　has　ceased　to　exist；　and　behold　in　his
stead　a　/baby/；　as　my　English　nurse　says；　a　regular　pink…and…white
baby。　He　cries　very　little　too　now；　for　he　is　conscious　of　the　love
bestowed　on　him；　indeed；　I　hardly　ever　leave　him；　and　I　strive　to　wrap
him　round　in　the　atmosphere　of　my　love。

Dear；　I　have　a　feeling　now　for　Louis　which　is　not　love；　but　which
ought　to　be　the　crown　of　a　woman's　love　where　it　exists。　Nay；　I　am　not
sure　whether　this　tender　fondness；　this　unselfish　gratitude；　is　not
superior　to　love。　From　all　that　you　have　told　me　of　it；　dear　pet；　I
gather　that　love　has　something　terribly　earthly　about　it；　whilst　a
strain　of　holy　piety　purifies　the　affection　a　happy　mother　feels　for
the　author　of　her　far…reaching　and　enduring　joys。　A　mother's　happiness
is　like　a　beacon；　lighting　up　the　future；　but　reflected　also　on　the
past　in　the　guise　of　fond　memories。

The　old　l'Estorade　and　his　son　have　moreover　redoubled　their　devotion
to　me；　I　am　like　a　new　person　to　them。　Every　time　they　see　me　and
speak　to　me；　it　is　with　a　fresh　holiday　joy；　which　touches　me　deeply。
The　grandfather　has；　I　verily　believe；　turned　child　again；　he　looks　at
me　admiringly；　and　the　first　time　I　came　down　to　lunch　he　was　moved　to
tears　to　see　me　eating　and　suckling　the　child。　The　moisture　in　these
dry　old　eyes；　generally　expressive　only　of　avarice；　was　a　wonderful
comfort　to　me。　I　felt　that　the　good　soul　entered　into　my　joy。

As　for　Louis；　he　would　shout　aloud　to　the　trees　and　stones　of　the
highway　that　he　has　a　son；　and　he　spends　whole　hours　watching　your
sleeping　godson。　He　does　not　know；　he　says；　when　he　will　grow　used　to
it。　These　extravagant