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Musset, Alfred de, 1810-1857

"The Confession of a Child of the Century"

Ah! well, it does not matter, I am yours. You have told me, in
your better moments, that Providence appointed me to watch over you as a
mother. Yes, when you make me suffer, I do not look upon you as a lover,
but as a sick child, fretful and rebellious, that I must care for and
cure in order that I may always keep him and love him. May God give me
that power!" she added, looking up to heaven. "May God, who sees me, who
hears us, may the God of mothers and of lovers, permit me to accomplish
that task! When I feel as though I would sink under it, when my pride
rebels, when my heart is breaking, when all my life--"
She could not finish; her tears choked her. O God! I saw her there on her
knees, her hands clasped on the rock; she swayed in the breeze as did the
bushes about us. Frail and sublime creature; she prayed for her love. I
raised her in my arms.
"O my only friend!" I cried. "Oh! my mistress, my mother, and my sister!
Pray also for me, that I may be able to love you as you deserve. Pray
that I may have the courage to live; that my heart may be cleansed in
your tears; that it may become a holy offering before God and that we may
share it together."
All was silent about us; above our heads, spread the heavens resplendent
with stars.
"Do you remember," I said, "do you remember the first day?"
From that night, we never returned to that spot. That rock was an altar
which has retained its purity; it is one of the visions of my life which
still passes before my eyes wreathed in spotless white.


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