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Musset, Alfred de, 1810-1857

"The Confession of a Child of the Century"

After their interview, I found her sad and
distraught; but I could not guess the cause, unless the letters were from
N-----, that village where I had confessed my love and where Brigitte's
only relatives lived.
Nevertheless, our preparations progressed rapidly and I became impatient
to get away; at the same time, I was so happy that I could hardly rest.
When I arose in the morning, and the sun was shining through our windows,
I experienced such transports of joy that I was almost intoxicated with
happiness. So anxious was I to prove the sincerity of my love for
Brigitte, that I hardly dared kiss the hem of her dress. Her lightest
words made me tremble as though her voice was strange to me; I alternated
between tears and laughter, and I never spoke of the past except with
horror and disgust.
Our room was full of our goods scattered about in disorder, albums,
pictures, books, and the dear map we loved so much. We were going and
coming about the room; every few moments I would stop and kneel before
Brigitte, who would call me an idler, saying that she had to do all the
work, and that I was good for nothing; and all sorts of projects flitted
through our minds. Sicily was far away, but the winters are so delightful
there! Genoa is very pretty with its painted houses, its green gardens
and the Apennines in the background! But what noise! What crowds! Out of
every three men on the street, one is a monk and another a soldier.


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