PARIS, June 20, 1673.
Come hither, my son-in-law. So, then, you are resolved to send my
daughter back to me in the first coach; you are displeased with her,
and quite angry that she admires your castle, and think that she takes
too great a liberty in pretending to reside there and command in every
thing. As you say you hate every thing that is worthy of hatred, you
certainly must hate her. I enter into all your displeasure; you could
not have addressed yourself to one who feels the force of it better
than myself. But do you know, after what you have said, that you make
me tremble to hear you talk of wishing me at Grignan, and I am quite
inconsolable for that reason; for there is nothing in futurity so dear
to me as the hope of seeing you there; and whatever I may say, I am
persuaded that you will be very glad of it too, and that you love me;
it is impossible it should be otherwise; I love you so well, that the
same sentiments must necessarily pass from me to you, and from you to
me. I commend the care of my daughter’s health to you above all earthly
things; watch over it, be absolute master in all that regards it; do
not behave as you did at the bridge of Avignon; keep your authority
in this one point, and in every thing else leave her to her own way;
she is more skillful than you. Ah, how I pity you for having lost the
pleasure of receiving her letters! You were much happier a year ago;
would to God you had that pleasure now, and I had the mortification of
seeing and embracing her! Adieu, my dearest count, though I believe you
are as much beloved as any man in the world, yet I do not think that
any of your mothers-in-law[300] ever loved you so well as I do.
[300] Madame de Sévigné was the third.