_Friday Morning [Paris, Sept. 1793]._
A man, whom a letter from Mr. ---- previously announced, called here
yesterday for the payment of a draft; and, as he seemed disappointed at
not finding you at home, I sent him to Mr. ----. I have since seen him,
and he tells me that he has settled the business.
So much for business!--May I venture to talk a little longer about less
weighty affairs?--How are you?--I have been following you all along the
road this comfortless weather; for, when I am absent from those I love, my
imagination is as lively, as if my senses had never been gratified by
their presence--I was going to say caresses--and why should I not? I have
found out that I have more mind than you, in one respect; because I can,
without any violent effort of reason, find food for love in the same
object, much longer than you can.--The way to my senses is through my
heart; but, forgive me! I think there is sometimes a shorter cut to yours.
With ninety-nine men out of a hundred, a very sufficient dash of folly is
necessary to render a woman _piquante_, a soft word for desirable; and,
beyond these casual ebullitions of sympathy, few look for enjoyment by
fostering a passion in their hearts. One reason, in short, why I wish my
whole sex to become wiser, is, that the foolish ones may not, by their
pretty folly, rob those whose sensibility keeps down their vanity, of the
few roses that afford them some solace in the thorny road of life.
I do not know how I fell into these reflections, excepting one thought
produced it--that these continual separations were necessary to warm your
affection.--Of late, we are always separating.--Crack!--crack!--and away
you go.--This joke wears the sallow cast of thought; for, though I began
to write cheerfully, some melancholy tears have found their way into my
eyes, that linger there, whilst a glow of tenderness at my heart whispers
that you are one of the best creatures in the world.--Pardon then the
vagaries of a mind, that has been almost "crazed by care," as well as
"crossed in hapless love," and bear with me a _little_ longer!--When we
are settled in the country together, more duties will open before me, and
my heart, which now, trembling into peace, is agitated by every emotion
that awakens the remembrance of old griefs, will learn to rest on yours,
with that dignity your character, not to talk of my own, demands.
Take care of yourself--and write soon to your own girl (you may add dear,
if you please) who sincerely loves you, and will try to convince you of
it, by becoming happier.