PARIS, November 25, 1655.
You affect great things, M. le Comte: under the pretense that you write
like a second Cicero, you think yourself entitled to ridicule people.
The passage you remarked, in reality, made me laugh heartily; but I
am astonished that you found no other equally ludicrous; for, in the
way I wrote to you, it is a miracle that you comprehended my meaning;
and I see plainly that either you have a greater share of wit, or that
my letter is better, than I imagined. I am glad, however, you have
profited by my advice.
I am told that you have asked leave to stay at the frontiers. As you
know, my poor count, that mine is a blunt and honest sort of love, I
am desirous your request may be granted. This is the road, it is said,
to preferment, and you know how interested I am in your welfare; but I
shall be pleased either way. If you remain, true friendship shall find
its account; if you return, affectionate friendship shall be satisfied.
Madame de Roquelaure is returned so handsome that she yesterday
completely challenged the Louvre; this kindled such jealousy in the
beauties that were present, that they have resolved, out of spite, she
shall not be a party at any of the _after-suppers_, and you know how
gay and pleasant they are. Madame de Fiennes would have retained her
there yesterday, but it was understood by the queen’s answer that her
presence would be dispensed with.
Adieu, my dear cousin; believe me to be the most faithful friend you
have in the world.