“On rising from my mattress, which I found the softest bed of down, they gave me your letter, wherein I found, what I knew before, the most constant love in the world. Your many virtues set you above the goddesses, and your constancy raises you above your sex. I note that your answer to the one [Electress of Brandenburg] who proposed you should make it up with La Platen, was to the effect that if the Duke ordered it you would obey, though you did not see to what end. You ask me my feeling about the matter. I would never advise you to do such a thing, for it is beneath noble souls. But what grieves me is that while you think it a mean action on your part, you advise me to do it. I believe you wish to try me, and so I forgive you; otherwise I should be very angry with you for wishing me to do a despicable thing. Don’t imagine I will consent. I will not budge an inch from my determination for all the countesses in the world; but I am willing to aid your plan, since you hope for a happy ending. I am willing to be civil to her, even friendly, as in former times, if she be civil to me; but never could I make her believe I liked her, hating her as I do. Fie! it is beneath me. My transports of delight when I held you in my arms prevented me from realising the full force of your proposition; I find it so much beneath me that I refuse altogether, and beg you will say no more about it. How can I thank you, angel mine, for all your sweet favours? You have made me the happiest man in the world.” “_November._ “You could not have given me pleasanter news. Though the journey will not take place,[185] I still owe you the same debt, but with this difference—if they shatter themselves with their politics, we shall not risk the same chance of being discovered. That may easily come to pass; indeed I hope to God they will break each other up. But, Madame, my joy is not without alloy, for Prince Ernest told me that the Prince assured him, if the journey to Berlin fell through, he would go to Aller. However, I would rather see you there than run the risk of being sent away from you, which would surely happen if we were discovered. My ill-luck follows me, and I see no hope of being luckier in the future. I could most certainly have come to you last night, but La Dondon[186] whispered to the Duchess’s _valet-de-chambre_, and I thought they were whispering about us, so I made up my mind to deprive myself of the happiness of being with you. I am very grateful to you for promising to appear this evening. Do come, that I may see the divine eyes that give me light. If you suffered at the comedy, I suffered more. I was dying to look at you, for I found you more beautiful than ever; but I dared not give my eyes that delight for fear of spoiling everything.