“You are glad, I believe, I wrote you that short letter, so that you might have something to scold me about. I did it on purpose, so you might know by experience what it is like. I have more than ten of yours even shorter than mine, but _I_ did not call you rude for so writing. You have licence to call me what you like, but you are unjust not to accept the excuse of my military duties. I know one ought never to admit any obstacle to one’s love, but _ma chérie_, how many times have you not made excuses—the sentinel, the watch, or some silly tale of people hanging about? Have I ever said a word? have I not shown more forbearance than you? You are very imprudent to play cards with the General and his wife; you certainly will not win much. He is a very gallant general—at least Prince Max told me so—but he forgets his place in praising you so highly. I should like to see you playing with him—with your smiles and graces. How you will receive this attention and that! and what sweet glances you will cast him to reward him! How your eyes will sparkle at his compliments! I fancy I see you: I know your airs. Don’t think I am jealous; it doesn’t matter to me. I know you cannot live without admiration, and therefore it is better that it should come from an old fool than a young fop. I talked to Prince Max about your father’s affection for you, and he agreed with me that it is _un amitié de singe_, since he does nothing for you. True parental love consists in settling on one’s daughter a comfortable sum; and it is just now that your father ought to do it, for if he should be ruined [by the Danes], on what would you live?” “[HANOVER,] _Friday, July_ 14/24. “If Count Steinbock had been going to Celle I would have accompanied him; but as he is not, I cannot gather from your letter how I am to come. You disguise your hand so much that I can hardly make out what you write. I should dearly love to come and see you; but it is difficult, for Count Steinbock has gone, and they don’t speak about my marching, so I must come _incognito_. But, before I can come disguised, I must have instructions, and it is not easy unless I am well posted in what I am to do; I might take a wrong step and ruin everything. I cannot gather from your letter what it is you wish, and I cannot make out from the feigned writing which way I am to come, or even where you are, or how I am to keep myself hidden when I get to Celle.” _The Princess to Königsmarck._ “[CELLE,] _Saturday, July_ 15/25.