Wednesday Morning.
You have often called me, dear girl, but you would now say good, did you
know how very attentive I have been to the —— ever since I came to
Paris. I am not however going to trouble you with the account, because I
like to see your eyes praise me; and, Milton insinuates, that during
such recitals, there are interruptions, not ungrateful to the heart,
when the honey that drops from the lips is not merely words.
Yet, I shall not (let me tell you before these people enter, to force me
to huddle away my letter) be content with only a kiss of DUTY—you _must_
be glad to see me—because you are glad—or I will make love to the
_shade_ of Mirabeau, to whom my heart continually turned, whilst I was
talking to Madame ——, forcibly telling me that it will ever have
sufficient warmth to love, whether I will or not, sentiment, though I so
highly respect principle.——
Not that I think Mirabeau utterly devoid of principles—far—and, if I had
not begun to form a new theory respecting men, I should, in the vanity
of my heart, have imagined that I could have made something of his——it
was composed of such materials—Hush! here they come—and love flies away
in the twinkling of an eye, leaving a little brush of his wing on my
pale cheeks.
I hope to see Dr. —— this morning; I am going to Mr. ——’s to meet
him. ——, and some others, are invited to dine with us to-day; and
to-morrow I am to spend the day with ——.
I shall probably not be able to return to —— to-morrow; but it is no
matter, because I must take a carriage, I have so many books, that I
immediately want, to take with me—On Friday then I shall expect you to
dine with me—and, if you come a little before dinner, it is so long
since I have seen you, you will not be scolded by yours affectionately
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