--, Friday, --, 1860.

On the sad sea shore! Always to hear the moaning of these dismal
waves!

Listen. I will tell you my story--my story of love, of misery,
of black despair.

I am a moral Frenchman.

She whom I adore, whom I adore still, is the wife of a fat
Marquis--a lop-eared, blear-eyed, greasy Marquis. A man without
soul. A man without sentiment, who cares naught for moonlight
and music. A low, practical man, who pays his debts. I hate
him.

II.

She, my soul's delight, my empress, my angel, is superbly
beautiful.

I loved her at first sight--devotedly, madly.

She dashed past me in her coupe. I saw her but a moment--perhaps
only an instant--but she took me captive then and there,
forevermore.

Forevermore!