PARIS, _Tuesday night_.
I do not understand you, and I am tempted to believe you to be the very
worst of coquettes. Your former letter, in which you tell me that you no
longer know me, put me in a bad humour, and I have not replied to it
promptly. You say, also, with a great deal of civility, that you do not
care to see me, for fear of becoming tired of me. Unless I am mistaken,
we have seen each other six or seven times in six years, and if we add
together the minutes, we may have passed three or four hours together,
half the time saying nothing. However, we are well enough acquainted for
you to have learned to like me a little, the proof of which you gave me
Thursday. We know each other really better than people who meet in
society, considering the length of time we have conversed in our letters
with a certain amount of freedom.
Confess, then, that it is scarcely flattering to my self-esteem that
now, after an acquaintance of six years, you should treat me thus.
Nevertheless, as I have no means of overcoming your resolutions, it
shall be as you wish in this case, but I think it is rather silly not to
see each other. I beg your pardon for using this word which is neither
polite nor friendly, but which, in my opinion at least, is unfortunately
true.
I did not in any way ridicule you the other evening; on the contrary, I
thought you extremely self-possessed. As for the antique seal, you shall
see an impression from it on this letter, and it is subject to your
orders, when you have told me where I shall give it to you--no, how you
wish it sent to you. Let us not offend the eternal fitness of things.
I ask nothing from you in exchange, for the reason that everything I
have asked you have refused me. If you consider it wrong to see me, is
it not wrong, also, to write to me? As I am not very proficient in your
catechism, there is some confusion in my mind on this point. I speak too
harshly, perhaps, but you have wounded my feelings, and when I am
unhappy I can not escape from it, as you can, by devouring cakes. In
truth, that is quite worthy of Cerberus.