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Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is

separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my

happiness are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the

distance separating us our hearts are united by indissoluble

bonds, my heart rebels against fate and in spite of the pleasures

and distractions around me I cannot overcome a certain secret

sorrow that has been in my heart ever since we parted. Why are we

not together as we were last summer, in your big study, on the

blue sofa, the confidential sofa? Why cannot I now, as three

months ago, draw fresh moral strength from your look, so gentle,

calm, and penetrating, a look I loved so well and seem to see

before me as I write?