“You may be easy about my conduct; nothing on that account need ruffle your quiet or trouble your rest. To-day, for instance, scarcely was I dressed than I had to dine. Afterwards I went to see my mother for a little while, and then she sent me home.[118] Max[119] escorted me. I left him in the antechamber; I did not stop a moment. He is more stupid than ever; he was quite confused. My father came to see me and showed me many attentions. I played with Chauvet.[120] We supped, and then I retired, without staying to talk to any one. Good-night; I must to bed. Alas! what sad nights since you left me! When I think of the joys we shared together and my loneliness now, a great pang goes through me. Be true, dear one,—all the happiness of my life hangs on it. I live only for you.” ----- Footnote 118: The Duke of Celle’s hunting-box at Brockhausen was very small, and, as the accommodation was insufficient, the Princess and her suite were lodged in a house hard by. Footnote 119: Prince Max was staying with the Duke of Celle for a time, who was trying to talk him to reason (_vide_ Colt’s despatches). The Princess’s estimate of Prince Max’s character agreed in the main with that of Colt, who, speaking of his share in the Moltke plot, says: “Nor indeed was his [Prince Max’s own capacity very fit for it, though he is a very worthy gentleman, and much improved since he hath been at home these two years, having before lost his time by being too much delighted with the pleasures of Venice, where he had been in service five years.” Footnote 120: Marshal Jeremiah Chauvet was one of the Frenchmen whom the Duchess Eléonore brought in her train to the court of Celle. He was not of noble birth, but the son of a blacksmith in Lorraine. In 1670 the Duke of Celle advanced him to the rank of colonel, and he became successively major-general, general, and field-marshal. ----- “BROCKHAUSEN, _June_ 25/_July_ 5. “I hoped to have had news of you from Wesel, and am much cast down because none came. I attribute it to the carelessness of your servants at Hanover, for I scarcely think you would neglect me: at least, let me flatter myself to that extent; it is the only consolation I have left. When I think you love me I forget all the disasters which threaten—but I shall worry you with my fears. My father and mother overwhelm me with kindness, and, most reassuring, they have not mentioned your name since I came here. I am rather surprised at this, but I hope they are satisfied with what I told them before.