youth and beauty, Augustine saw herself deserted for a woman of
six-and-thirty. Feeling herself so wretched in the midst of a world of
festivity which to her was a blank, the poor little thing could no
longer understand the admiration she excited, or the envy of which she
was the object. Her face assumed a different expression. Melancholy,
tinged her features with the sweetness of resignation and the pallor
of scorned love. Ere long she too was courted by the most fascinating
men; but she remained lonely and virtuous. Some contemptuous words
which escaped her husband filled her with incredible despair. A
sinister flash showed her the breaches which, as a result of her
sordid education, hindered the perfect union of her soul with
Theodore's; she loved him well enough to absolve him and condemn
herself. She shed tears of blood, and perceived, too late, that there
are _mesalliances_ of the spirit as well as of rank and habits. As she
recalled the early raptures of their union, she understood the full
extent of that lost happiness, and accepted the conclusion that so
rich a harvest of love was in itself a whole life, which only sorrow
could pay for. At the same time, she loved too truly to lose all hope.
At one-and-twenty she dared undertake to educate herself, and make her
imagination, at least, worthy of that she admired. "If I am not a
poet," thought she, "at any rate, I will understand poetry."

Then, with all the strength of will, all the energy which every woman
can display when she loves, Madame de Sommervieux tried to alter her
character, her manners, and her habits; but by dint of devouring books
and learning undauntedly, she only succeeded in becoming less
ignorant. Lightness of wit and the graces of conversation are a gift
of nature, or the fruit of education begun in the cradle. She could
appreciate music and enjoy it, but she could not sing with taste. She
understood literature and the beauties of poetry, but it was too late