that in my eyes all other women are without charm, beauty, or wit; that you and you alone, such as I see you now, can please me and absorb all the faculties of my soul, that you alone have sounded all its depths; . . . that my strength, my arms, my mind all is yours; . . . that my soul is in your body; and that the day when you change, or the day on which you cease to live, would be that of my death; that nature and the earth are only beautiful in my eyes because you inhabit them."
And finally the letter, after pages of this kind of thing, winds up with this impassioned outburst:
"A child, adorable as his mother, is about to see the light in your arms! Unhappy that I am, I would be satisfied with one day! A thousand kisses on your eyes, your lips! Adorable woman, what is your power? I am ill with your illness; fever is burning me! Do not keep the courier more than six hours, and let him return straight-way to bring me the cherished letter from my sovereign."
XVIII.
THE FIRST QUARRELS.
All these outpourings did not make it a bit easier for Josephine to leave Paris; it was not until she feared that her little invention about being enceinte would be betrayed by Junot
