I had a mind to let the poor fellow have his humour—Then prithee, said I, let me see it.

La Fleur instantly pull’d out a little dirty pocket-book cramm’d full of small Letters and billet-douces in a sad condition, and laying it upon the table, and then untying the string which held them all together, run them over one by one, till he came to the letter in question—La voila! said he, clapping his hands; so unfolding it first, he laid it before me, and retired three steps from the table whilst I read it.

The Letter

Madame,

Je suis penetré de la douleur la plus vive, et reduit en même temps au desespoir par ce retour imprevû du Corporal qui rend notre entrevue de ce soir la chose du monde la plus impossible.

Mais vive la joie! et toute la mienne sera de penser à vous.

L’amour n’est rien sans sentiment.

Et le sentiment est encore moins sans amour.

On dit qu’on ne doit jamais se desesperer.

On dit aussi que Monsieur le Corporal monte la garde mercredi: alors ce sera mon tour.

Chacun a son tour

En attendant—Vive l’amour! et vive la bagatelle!

Je suis, Madame,

Avec toutes les sentiments le plus respecteux et les plus tendres tout à vous.

Jaques Roque.

It was but changing the Corporal into the Count—and saying nothing about mounting guard on Wednesday—and the letter was neither right or wrong—so to gratify the poor fellow who stood trembling for my honour, his own, and the honour of his Letter,—I took the cream gently off it, and whipping it up in my own way—I seal’d it up and sent him with it to Madame de L^***—and the next morning we pursued our journey to Paris.