My little girl is two months old. She is called Jeanne-Athenais, and has
for godmother and godfather my mother, and an old grand-uncle of Louis'.
As soon as I possibly can, I shall start for my visit to Chantepleurs,
since you are not afraid of a nursing mother. Your godson can say your
name now; he calls it _Matoumer_, for he can't say _c_ properly. You
will be quite delighted with him. He has got all his teeth, and eats
meat now like a big boy; he is all over the place, trotting about like
a little mouse; but I watch him all the time with anxious eyes, and it
makes me miserable that I cannot keep him by me when I am laid up. The
time is more than usually long with me, as the doctors consider some
special precautions necessary. Alas! my child, habit does not inure one
to child-bearing. There are the same old discomforts and misgivings.
However (don't show this to Felipe), this little girl takes after me,
and she may yet cut out your Armand.
My father thought Felipe looking very thin, and my dear pet also not
quite so blooming. Yet the Duc and Duchesse de Soria have gone; not a
loophole for jealousy is left! Is there any trouble which you are hiding
from me? Your letter is neither so long nor so full of loving thoughts
as usual. Is this only a whim of my dear whimsical friend?
I am running on too long. My nurse is angry with me for writing, and
Mlle. Athenais de l'Estorade wants her dinner. Farewell, then; write me
some nice long letters.