IN THE COUNTRY, June 26, 1655.
I had no doubt that you would take some opportunity of bidding me
adieu, either at my own house or from the camp at Landrecy. As I am not
a woman of ceremony, I am content with the latter; and have not even
thought of being angry, that you failed in coming to me before you set
out.
I have not stirred from this desert, since your departure; and, to
speak frankly, I am not much afflicted to find that you are with the
army. I should be an unworthy cousin of so brave a cousin, if I were
sorry to see you, during the present campaign, at the head of the
finest regiment in France, and in so glorious a post as the one you
hold. I dare say you would disown any sentiments less worthy than
these; I leave weaker and more tender feelings to the true bagnio
gentry. Every one loves in his own way. I profess to be heroic as well
as you, and am proud to boast of these sentiments. Some women, perhaps,
would think this a little in the old Roman style, and _would thank God
they were not Romans_,[4] that they might still preserve some feelings
of humanity. But on this subject I can assure them I am not so inhuman
as they suppose; and, with all my heroism, I wish your safe return as
passionately as they can do. I trust, my dear cousin, you will not
doubt the truth of this, nor that I fervently pray your life may be
spared. This is the adieu you would have received from me in person,
and which I now beg you to accept from hence, as I have accepted yours
from Landrecy.
[4] Verse from Corneille’s tragedy of the Horatii.