so indulged by the kindest of fathers, so blessed by meeting, on

my entrance into life, with the love of an Anna! The flowers of

life are all I have ever known. Such happiness could not last.

Nevertheless, my dear Annette, I feel more courage than a careless

young man is supposed to feel,--above all a young man used to the

caressing ways of the dearest woman in all Paris, cradled in

family joys, on whom all things smiled in his home, whose wishes

were a law to his father--oh, my father! Annette, he is dead!