We can, it seems to me, so name him, as there is a worthy ecclesiastic here who calls him _the true Father_. I am sure, dearest sister, that each day he strives after a higher perfection. Happy they who have the example of his rare virtues before them, but far happier they who imitate them! God grant us the grace to be of this number, and may my weakness not hold me back. I shall be satisfied if I follow him a hundred steps behind. I am very glad that your sister has the comfort of staying with you and that your son is good. May God give him the grace to persevere, and may he root all vanity out of your daughter's heart. Mine is very extravagant. It is well that she has found such a good and prudent husband. When I see her I do my best to make her sensible and to show her her mistake. I recommend her to your prayers. My son is also most extravagant, but otherwise he is brave, loveable, and esteemed at court, where the King has given him a very honourable post for one so young. But all this is vanity. I value more your remembrance of him before God than all these dignities. He is always here, I mean with the court, or in his garrison. I trust to the prayers of our Blessed Father to save these children's souls, and that is all I care about. Adieu, dearest Sister. XLVII. _To the Countess de Toulonjon._ Vive [+] Jésus! PARIS, 1621. MY DEAREST DAUGHTER, The dress I am sending you is really quite perfect and is the most beautiful that can be procured. If your brother were very rich it would be a pleasure to him to pay the bill for you, but as it is he begs of you to be satisfied with his good-will, for he has not wherewith to pay it. Be content with this dress, for it is handsome and quite sufficiently stylish, and because you so long for it I want to satisfy you. M. de Toulonjon writes that you have not a single gown except the one you are wearing. I cannot understand this, as during the last seventeen months you have had four silk dresses and the brocade costume about which you told me. What then am I to think, I pray you, dear Françoise? Oh! God bless you, my daughter; do be content and let it be seen that you are the child of parents who were altogether reasonable, peaceful, and constant in their perfect affection, and this it is that I desire for you. I write in haste. A thousand salutations to all your dear relatives. Do not expect your brother: he cannot go to you, and I do not wish him to. You have my nephew. Courage, my child, be not a silly, frivolous girl, troubling over trifles, and letting them take up your thoughts. Urge M. de Toulonjon to send me the money for the dress. The amount of the bill is, I understand, 500 livres, and I have not got the money to pay it, so let me have it by the first opportunity, as I do not wish to remain in debt here. God bless you, dearest Françon. I am in a great hurry.