François MITTERRAND consoles himself with the virtues of love.

François Mitterrand (1916.1996)

Autograph letter signed to Marie-Louise Terrasse, known as Catherine Langeais.

Four pages, small quarto. [Fort d'Ivry]. February 9 and 10, 1939.

« Never has my will felt more unshakeable

Mitterrand, exhausted from his military service, finds solace in the virtues of love.

"My beloved, I haven't kept my promise to write to you in this evening's mail. Please forgive me, I've had very little time. This morning, I went to Fort Vanves; there, I fired the machine gun ; then around 1 p.m., I returned to Ivry. The march only seemed difficult in the very last few kilometers: my shoulders were aching from the straps of my haversack. Tonight, my head is a little blank. For now, I'm writing to you from my bed: between waking and sleeping. In this position, my handwriting and the neatness (see above) of my paper may leave something to be desired. I am sorry."

To tell you that I thought of you again today is pointless. I'm becoming a creature of habit, and my days are structured according to the same pattern: joy if I see you, sorrow if I don't, regret for our last meeting, hope for the next. In short, you are, my Zou, a very important person. Because it's no small thing to be able to fill someone's life.

How was your day? Tell me about it in your letter, which I await. Tell me, especially if it's true, that you thought of me. You've made me realize this: that I thought I despised words and clung only to unspoken thoughts, but that in reality, words are necessary for me to prevent me from doubting thoughts. A flaw of love: it obscures the sense of nuance, it demands a certain brutality; it tends to confuse nuance with doubt.

My little girl, I think that the transposition of inner impulses onto the external plane is impoverished, however wonderful it may be. Words of love lose along the way a little of the infinite that mingles with thoughts of love. Like everything that materializes a pure realm. And yet, how enchanting these words are! A person is bound, despite themselves, to their first word of love.

What power do those three words, “I love you,” possess? It's the whole story of the world. Our whole story.

February 10th. My dearest little girl, this morning I received your letter. If you only knew the joy your letters bring me! I so desperately need your constant presence. You speak to me of your fragility, and of the strength I can give you. My darling, because I love you, it seems to me that I can do anything. Never has my will felt so unshakeable. And this will is ready to do anything to keep you. This influence you have on me, simply by virtue of your love, has been enough to give me the impetus I lacked, the impetus that can only be attached to an essential reason for living. And besides, I know that our love cannot end after all it has given us. Wouldn't it be lamentable to see it reduced to one of those little flings that we smile about later and that are convenient for everyone? And besides, it wouldn't be possible: there's no such thing as a small adventure where a lifetime of suffering can be born. We are fragile without each other. But we love each other. And we will never be apart again. Our thoughts are intertwined, our sweetest memories are those we shared. My Marie-Louise, who could possibly break our strength, we who are bound by the most wonderful of promises? I still have so much to tell you. But that will be for later. Now I'm going to leave you (not really). I hope that tomorrow will bring me, morning and evening, what I long for from it.

And I tell you that I love you, my tiny peach that will never know any season but the most beautiful. François

Catherine Langeais (1923.1998), whose real name is Marie-Louise Terrasse, met François Mitterrand on January 28, 1938, during the École Normale Supérieure ball, with whom, although only 15 years old, she became engaged. Mitterrand wrote more than 300 letters to the woman he nicknamed Zou.