“_L’Envoi._—I have just received your letter. I deserve to be scolded, it is true; but how can I guard my words when I fear losing you, when I love you to madness? I would rather die over and over again than cease to be loved by you. You are right in thinking it was anger made me write the words that wounded you: I cannot be reasonable when I love so passionately. I will write to you fully to-morrow. I have no time to say more now, as my father is coming to take me to a ‘bull-bait,’[151] the same as they have in England. It is not necessary for me to assure you again that I shall never change. If there be any vows left I would sign them with my heart’s blood.” ----- Footnote 151: Bull-baiting was a popular pastime in England during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, patronised by royalty and persons of rank. Queen Elizabeth gave one in honour of the French ambassadors in 1559, and the Queen and the ambassadors greatly enjoyed “the sport”. This barbarous pastime was also practised as late as the reign of Queen Anne, and was very popular, too, in market towns and rural villages. But these bull-baitings drew such a mob of low and dissipated persons together that they were at last abolished in the interests of the public peace. ----- _Königsmarck to the Princess._ “HALLE, _August_. “I again asked your pardon for all I wrote in haste. I missed the post _twice_ (not _three_ times, as you say) for good and sufficient reasons. Still, I ought to have left all to acquit myself of my duty to you. My dear, I own my fault, so I hope you will forgive me; I will not neglect writing another time.... You make fun of me when you say that I took away a copy of my likeness. I swear that I never did such a thing. I went yesterday to Brussels to have the bracelet and the portrait made, but for nothing else. Prince Christian and several other of my friends wanted me to go to the Assembly. I refused, and went for a walk. I saw La Reingrave, La Delvassine,[152] and other ladies, but they were so dull and unattractive that I mounted my horse and rode back to the camp. Indeed, my dearest, I find those ladies hideous now, though they pass for the handsomest in Brussels. What are they compared to you? Two years ago I thought them passable, but now I am astonished at my bad taste. They are as pale-faced and sickly as if they had had the fever; pallor is very fashionable in Brussels.