PARIS, July 19, 1655.
This is the third time I have written to you since you left Paris,
a sufficient proof that I have nothing upon my mind against you. I
received your farewell letter from Landrecy while I was in the country,
and answered it immediately. I see plainly that my letter has never
reached you, and I am extremely vexed at it; for, besides its being
written with becoming affection, it was in my opinion a very pretty
composition; and as it was designed for you only, I am wroth that
another should have the pleasure of reading it. I have since written
to you by the servant you dispatched hither with letters to some of
your favorites. I did not amuse myself by quarreling with you for
not remembering me at the same time, but wrote you a line or two
at full speed, which, however incoherent, would inform you of the
pleasure I received from the success of your regiment at Landrecy.
This intelligence came to us in the most acceptable manner possible,
by some of the court, who assured us that Cardinal Mazarin had spoken
very handsomely of you to the king, who afterward joined with the whole
court in extolling your conduct. You may conceive that my joy was not
inconsiderable at hearing all this; but to return to my story. This was
the subject of my second letter, and five or six days after I received
one from you, full of complaints against me. You see, however, my poor
cousin, with how little justice you complain; and hence I draw this
fine moral reflection, that we should never condemn a person unheard.
This is my justification. Another, perhaps, would have expressed the
same thing in fewer words. You must bear with my imperfections, in
consideration of my friendship. Every one has his peculiar style; mine,
as you see, is by no means laconic.