Your own daughter gave you a comb that served you for twenty years; I beg you to accept mine, and to use that one for twenty years too. I undertake to replace it at the end of that time, my dear papa; my heart tells me that you will live for a very long time. I do not know whether it flatters itself when it adds that you will love me as long as you live, but I know it tells the truth when it assures you that my tenderness for you will only stop when it itself has stopped beating.