LIVRI, Wednesday Evening, July 24, 1677.
Love Paulina, love Paulina, my child! indulge yourself in that
amusement; do not destroy your peace of mind by depriving yourself of
her; what are you afraid of? You may still send her to a convent for
a few years, when you think it necessary. Enjoy maternal affection
for a while; it is exquisite when it springs from the heart, and the
choice falls upon an amiable object. Dear Paulina! methinks I see her
here; she will resemble you, notwithstanding she bears the mark of
the workman. It is true, this nose is a strange affair; but it will
improve, and I will answer for it, she will be handsome.
Madame de Vins is still here; she is now in my closet, engaged in
conversation with D’Hacqueville and my son. His heel is still so bad
that he may perhaps go to Bourbon when I go to Vichi. Be under no
concern about this journey; and since it is not the will of Heaven that
I should enjoy the charms of your society, we must yield obedience
to his will; it is a bitter evil, but it must be endured; we are the
weakest, and to attempt resistance is vain. I should be too happy if
your friendship was clothed in all its realities; it is still extremely
dear to me, though divested of the charms and pleasures which your
presence and company bestow upon it. My son and I will answer all you
have said on the subject of epic poetry. The contempt I know he has for
Eneas, makes me apprehensive he will be of your opinion. Yet all the
great wits have a taste for every thing written by the ancients.