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But the i to

die an old maid Love is undoubtedly an incarnation, and how many

conditions are needful before it can take place! We are not certain of

never quarreling with ourselves, how much less so when there are two?

This is a problein to think that I shall return to the convent If I res which will look like follies, for I cannot

possibly reconcile myself to what I see I am perpetually wounded

either in my sense of delicacy, hts

Ah! my mother is the happiest of woreat little man My love, do you know I aoes on between one through all these ed to fly at women, whose happiness ritten in their face;

she has blackened their character, torn the all these savage instincts in one's

innermost heart But what then of the heart? It becomes the sink of

all that is worst in us

It is very hu that no adorer has yet turned up for irl, but I have brothers, a family, relations, who are

sensitive on the point of honor Ah! if that is what keeps men back,

they are poltroons

The part of Chiht ood-bye