PARIS, June 3, 1668.
I wrote to you the last; why have you not answered my letter? I have
been expecting to hear from you, and have at length found the Italian
proverb true: _chi offende non perdona_--the offender never pardons.
Madame d’Assigny has informed me that part of a cornice has fallen upon
your head, and hurt you considerably. If you were well, and I dared
exercise a little wicked wit upon the occasion, I should tell you that
they are not trifling ornaments like these that injure the heads of
husbands in general; and that it would be a fortunate circumstance for
them if they met with no worse evil than the fall of a cornice. But I
will not talk nonsense; I will first know how you are, and assure you
that the same reason which made me languid when you were bled, gives me
the headache from your accident. The ties of relationship can not, I
think, be carried further than this.
My daughter was on the point of marriage. The affair is broken off,
I hardly know why. She kisses your hand; I do the same to your whole
family. Have you done any thing yet with regard to the court? Pray let
me know how you stand there.