“Oh, cruel destiny! oh, endless misfortune! why wilt thou always distress me? Scarcely did I see the sun’s rays than a cloud robbed them from my eyes. Only this fatal blow was needed. What! I may not even taste three or four days of bliss with you? Oh, my dear one! I ought to have worshipped you from afar, not loved you; Heaven punishes me for my audacity. You are happier than I, for you hope your mother will find a way out of your troubles; but I have no hope, and greatly fear your plans will not succeed. Alas! where am I to look for consolation? My charming divinity, let me bury myself in some lonely corner of the world, far away from the light, since all hope of passing my life with you is lost. I pity you, my angel; yet I suffer more, for I am the cause of your pain and sorrow. Take care that the Prince does not find any coldness in you, though that advice is greatly against my inclination. You must guard yourself against the danger that threatens you. I therefore advise you to cajole and flatter the man I wish you to hate; you must coax him without fail. The tears you are shedding are tears of blood to me. But for me you would be the happiest woman in the world; yet remember, I suffer no less than you. I thought by devoting myself wholly to you that I should be the happiest of men; but destiny has thwarted us. I have forsaken relatives, friends, countrymen, estates, and wealth to have the joy of sometime tasting peacefully the delights of our mutual love; but, alas! I have lost all without gaining my desire. “A certain friend of our court told me that they think the treaty will soon be signed, but the Danes make so many quibbles that it is postponed from day to day. We shall still be here ten or twelve days, so the Prince will see you before me, and this cuts me to the heart. Count Platen’s son came to see me yesterday, and brought me a letter from his mother, who is reckoned great among us here; I enclose it to you, so that I may have nothing to reproach myself with. My answer was only six lines, and as cavalier as courtesy permitted. When I have the happiness of seeing you, I will repeat it word for word. The young Count told me that the peace would be signed for certain on Tuesday, but as that is too long for me to wait I must try to find some other means of seeing you at Celle before you go to Hanover. I don’t know if I can manage it, but I shall know to-morrow.... ”_L’envoi._—I am writing to ask Marshal Podevils to give me leave for three days. I shall be at Celle before you go away. Directly I know I will start at once. I will come disguised. Wait for me on the small staircase two nights running until twelve o’clock. I know the way to the hidden staircase at the back, and will wait for the signal if I reach there safely. Adieu.”