separating you from me seems only to have brought you nearer in
recollection. I have seen life, alas! during these six long months, but,
in acquiring a knowledge of the world, I have learned to love still more
the innocent ignorance of my past existence. Wiser than myself, you have
remained in the service of the Lord; you have understood the divine
mission which had been reserved for you; you have been unwilling to step
over the profane threshold and to enter the world, that cavern, I ought
to say, in which I am now assailed, tossed about like a frail bark during
a tempest. Nay, the anger of the waves of the sea compared to that of
the passions is mere child's play. Happy friend, who art ignorant of
what I have learned. Happy friend, whose eyes have not yet measured the
abyss into which mine are already sunk.

But what was I to do? Was I not obliged--despite my vocation and the
tender friendship which called me to your side--was I not obliged, I say,
to submit to the exigencies imposed by the name I bear, and also to the
will of my father, who destined me for a military career in order to
defend a noble cause which you too would defend? In short, I obeyed and
quitted the college of the Fathers never to return again.

I went into the world, my heart charged with the salutary fears which our
pious education had caused to grow up there. I advanced cautiously,
but very soon recoiled horror-stricken. I am eighteen; I am still young,
I know, but I have already reflected much, while the experience of my
pious instructors has imparted to my soul a precocious maturity which
enables me to judge of many things; besides my faith is so firmly
established and so deeply rooted in my being, that I can look about me
without danger. I do not fear for my own salvation, but I am shocked
when I think of the future of our modern society, and I pray the Lord
fervently, from a heart untainted by sin, not to turn away His