_12th May 1788._ “What can I tell you, my dear Charles, that you do not already know of my feelings on receiving from His Majesty a letter so full of kindness and graciousness? This letter is worth more to you than any parchments containing titles, diplomas, or patents--mere food for rats. It contains such touching words for us both that, though I am getting rather old to cry, it is impossible for me to refrain from doing so whenever I read over that paragraph. All the Circassian generals and officers, the Zaporogues, Tartars, Cabardians,[64] Germans, Russians, Cossacks, etc.,--all came to me in crowds, to congratulate me with a warmth I can never forget. “The father and most tender friend of my Charles are assuredly deeply touched at the honour you have won, and which surpasses anything I have ever done in my life. But the General de Ligne has suffered abominably. “Imagine, my boy, what a delightful moment for both of us had I been the first to accept your aid in clambering up that parapet, where you arrived before any one else! “Good heavens, what a fool one is at a distance! I, who at Hühnerwasser would have calmly seen you shot through the arm--I am as nervous as any woman,--a condition which is not far removed from that of minister.[65] However, I have agreed with some regiments of light horse to make a good slashing charge. I have never done anything of the kind, except at the head of ten Uhlans against five or six drunken Prussian hussars. You will admit that it was not the most memorable action of this century. I cannot shut myself up in those squares, as in a box, where one opens a door to come in or go out. “One can always manage to command if one chooses on the day of battle, so that I am perfectly certain, though I have not an army, that nothing will happen where I am but what I choose; I have already learnt all that is necessary, and am beginning to understand Russian. Do you think now, my Charles, that I was right in always wishing you to be an engineer? You have now shown genius,[66] as I knew you would. But are you sure you are not slightly wounded, though you do not say so? “Do not let any of His Majesty’s messengers come to me without sending me a letter. A thousand messages to my comrade Rouvroy, whose fate and wound I envy. Poor Poniatowski![67] I tremble lest he should follow in his father’s footsteps. He has already the same courage, the same military intelligence, personal devotion to His Majesty, generosity, etc., but I trust he will not have the same fate. Embrace him for me.”