waters of the Rhone and the Arve, the murmur of the river, the austerity
of its banks, the brilliancy of the foliage, the play of the leaves, the
splendor of the July sunlight, the rich fertility of the fields, the
lucidity of the distant mountains, the whiteness of the glaciers under
the azure serenity of the sky, the sparkle and foam of the mingling
rivers, the leafy masses of the La Bâtie woods,--all and everything
delighted me. It seemed to me as though the years of strength had come
back to me. I was overwhelmed with sensations. I was surprised and
grateful. The universal life carried me on its breast; the summer's
caress went to my heart. Once more my eyes beheld the vast horizons, the
soaring peaks, the blue lakes, the winding valleys, and all the free
outlets of old days. And yet there was no painful sense of longing. The
scene left upon me an indefinable impression, which was neither hope,
nor desire, nor regret, but rather a sense of emotion, of passionate
impulse, mingled with admiration and anxiety. I am conscious at once of
joy and of want; beyond what I possess I see the impossible and the
unattainable; I gauge my own wealth and poverty: in a word, I am and I
am not--my inner state is one of contradiction, because it is one of
transition.

* * * * *

APRIL 1OTH, 1881 [he died May 11th].--What dupes we are of our own
desires!... Destiny has two ways of crushing us--by refusing our wishes
and by fulfilling them. But he who only wills what God wills escapes
both catastrophes. "All things work together for his good."