“_L’envoi, the next morning._ “I have not slept a wink; my eyes are as big as fists, and I dare not show myself in public. La _pauvre_ Confidente is pale because I fret so; she sleeps in the small room next me, and I woke her up at five o’clock in the morning. I am still in bed in agonies of despair at your conduct; it shows so little love for me, I cannot be comforted, for it was the last thing I expected—a thunderbolt would not have astounded me more. Was not your absence enough to bear? Why do you crush me with such cruelty? I should like La Rose’s opinion to come true, but I don’t expect it. Adieu, Monsieur. I wish you many pleasures; no doubt you will find fresh ones every day, and forget all about me.” _Königsmarck to the Princess._ “HANOVER, _June_ 10/20. “Once on a time I was wont to complain that I did not dream of you; but now, thank Heaven, not a night goes by but I dream of you only. A poet has composed these lines on my dream delights:— L’autre jour j’aperçus en songe Celle qui cause oies soupirs, Qui consentait à mes désirs; Mais tout cela n’est qu’un mensonge. Ah! ce mensonge m’a flatté Autant qu’a fait la verité. La beauté qui le jour se couvre, Pendant la nuit ne cache rien: Les yeux fermés je vis un bien Qui disparaît quand on les ouvre. Dieu, pour soulager mon amour, Faites que je dorme toujours! Rien ne fut plus doux que Silvie, Et, sans que je fisse d’efforts, J’eus dans l’image de l’amour, Le plus doux plaisir de la vie. Dieu, pour soulager mon amour, Faites que je dorme toujours! I wish you the same delight, the sweetest the absent can know. If my song win your approval, and I find any one who can fit music to the words, I will send it to you. I sing it with the greatest pleasure. “What do I not owe to you? You behaved so well about Prince Max. You see, you have more power than you think. As long as your father lives they will always treat you with consideration: the Elector has need of him, and will not readily fall out with him. You wish to know, _ma chérie_, how I pass my time. Alas! how can I spend it away organizing you but in dreaming day and night of your lovely eyes? I pine, I sigh, I curse the day of my birth. Sleeping, I dream of thee; waking, I sing:— Dieu, pour soulager mon amour, Faites que je dorme toujours!