From Marie Guérin to Thérèse - August 22 , 1887

From Marie Guérin to Thérèse.

August 22, 1887

My dear little Thérèse,

A very important person is writing you these words; this morn­ing I awakened to the sounds of my seventeen years. It is somewhat shameful to wake up at eight o'clock, but this is poor Jeanne's fault, who had a very bad migraine headache last night. I believe I remember it is also August 22, my Godfather's birth­day. I beg you, then, dear little Thérèse, to wish him a happy birthday, kissing him with all your heart for his goddaughter.

I'm going to show you just a little how my life as a lady is spent. First, in the morning, after my breakfast, I take a stroll in the park; then we go to a delightful little spot which we've called the hermitage, and we make our meditation. After lunch, we go for an outing of two or three hours in the woods or the meadow, and in the woods we have already seen two little squirrels.

I saw my little "Miss" again; this is a little dog very tiny and very obedient, answering at the first call. However, to make her decide to follow us we have to draw her by her predominant fault, which is gluttony, or by carrying a rifle under our arm. Then we hear her endless barks; Diane joins the party, running through the thickets to scare out the game for us. But we're like the monkey showing the magic lantern; we have the instrument, but the pow­der is missing, which means we kill nothing. Since we have been here, we've had really beautiful weather, not too hot, and only a few storms.

Dear little Thérèse, I have followed your advice, and my cheeks are red as apples; the country air is doing me much good, and it has been decided that we remain until Friday.

Yesterday, we heard Mass at Evreux, and in the afternoon I answered Léonie, who had written me on Monday to wish me a happy feast. In the evening, we always have a little music, and the game of billiards is always our favorite game, so much so that with all these amusements, my piano gets hardly a few minutes. 1 assure you that my armchair covering is hardly making any pro­gress because I'm always on the move.

Adieu, dear little sister. I kiss you. How I love you.

Best regards from me to your whole family.

Your sister,


La Musse, August 22, '87

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