“[CELLE,] _Thursday_. “I am even angrier to-day than I was yesterday. The more I think of what you have done the more I find cause for annoyance. You have reason to be thankful for having delayed my return, for had I arrived piqued as I am you would surely have had a piece of my mind. I don’t know why I revert so often to the same grievance, but, though I wish to speak to you on other subjects, I unconsciously fall back on this one. The cause is not hard to find. Your unkindness cuts me to the heart, and, though I ought to get used to it, I cannot help being sensitive. Here are three unkind things all at once, which one surely should not expect from a man who prides himself on his delicacy and values his love so highly. You will remember you went to a feast at La Platen’s two hours after I left Hanover for Luisburg, in spite of the overwhelming grief in which you left me and the sorrow you pretended to show. You had enough self-control to hide your sadness so well at the feast that no one perceived it. The second party, which you say was so innocent, and which I am willing to believe was so, since you wish it, took place a week ago; and your most magnificent and brilliant entertainment the day before yesterday. Here are three parties in a very short time to my knowledge, not counting those I shall never know about, which, being secret, are doubtless all the sweeter to you. I am beginning to get used to your unkindness, and so far from spending the night weeping and wailing, as I was weak enough to do at Luisburg, I sleep very well, and wake up fortified and angrier than ever. I am quite convinced that this is a matter of indifference to you either way, because if you had ever so little regard for me you would have behaved very differently. But I am certain you do not love as I do, and renounce all pleasure; you are incapable of so strong a passion. Do not restrain yourself, I entreat you. Think only of your pleasures; count me as nothing. No doubt all these revelries will terminate in a complete reconciliation between you and La Platen, or some fresh intrigue. If only my wishes are needed to contribute to your happiness, you can have them: there is no joy I do not wish you. It so happens that Fortune, to give me revenge, has sent hither to-day a young baron from Mayence. He is very handsome, well built, and magnificent. You are no doubt willing that, rather than die of _ennui_, I should amuse myself with him! I believe you to be still too much my friend to refuse me that little comfort. You see, I am franker than you, for though you sent me word of your _fête_ you said nothing about the ladies and La Platen coming to it; yet the whole thing was got up for her! Of a truth, I am well repaid for living like a nun and shunning every one, even men of sixty, _mais n’importe_.