_Königsmarck to the Princess._ “GAVERN, _October_ 4/14. “I am extremely sorry to hear that La Confidente is unwell. I trust, however, that the gaiety of the fair will soon put her to rights. I am glad to see you are going to leave that unhealthy place (Wiesbaden) without being attacked by any complaint or illness. You need not be so very anxious on my behalf about your looks, for I could not find you more beautiful than I do already, and if you wish to “make up” for me, I shall not see you for some time, and your visit [to the fair] will have fatigued you. Had you done so _after_ your trip I might have flattered myself it was for me; but in any case your care will not be thrown away. The fine world of Frankfort will have the benefit, and you will have the satisfaction of finding yourself hated by the ladies of the city, for you will surpass them all in beauty and take away their lovers. You have made so many conquests in so many different countries that I do not doubt for a moment that you will enjoy the same triumphs in Frankfort, and include that town in the list of your trophies. You seek the banks of the Rhine and the Maine for people to admire you and rave about you; but why do you not cast a glance towards this unfortunate country? Here are kings, dukes, electors, and princes ready to woo, and who of them could resist your charms? “We arrived here after a march of thirty-six hours without a rest; some of our men fell from their horses, and others have the fever. Several wanted to entertain the Prince at Ghent: Goritz wanted to give him a dinner at his wife’s, Ovenair wanted to give him a livelier one with loose women. They tossed dice for it, and Ovenair won. The Prince told me I could make one of the party. Monsieur Goritz goes to the Hague, the Prince starts on the 15th, and Monsieur de Königsmarck goes to Brussels to cure himself if he can. Here in a few words is news you will not much relish; but, to finish with a _bonne bouche_, I vow to you with much submission that no one on earth could be your more humble servant than I.” CHAPTER XVIII. KÖNIGSMARCK RETURNS FROM THE WAR. Come back! from love of thee my soul is glowing, Come back! without thee my sad heart is grieving, Come back! for by thy absence, my beloved one, Bewildered, bitter tears in floods are flowing. HAFÌZ.