Chapter XLVIII: Letter XXXVII: PARIS, Monday, February 5, 1674

It is many years ago, to-day, that there came into the world a creature destined to love you beyond every other thing in existence.[105] I beg you not to suffer your imagination to wander either to the right hand or to the left:--_Cet homme-là, sire, c’était moi-même._[106]

[105] She refers to her birth-day, 5th February, 1626.

[106] A line of Marot, in an epistle to Francis I. _This man,
sire, was myself._

It was yesterday three years that I felt the most poignant grief of my whole life. You set out at that time for Provence, and you remain there still. My letter would be very long, if I attempted to express all the sorrow I then felt, and what I have since felt, in consequence of this separation. But to leave this melancholy digression. I have received no letters from you to-day. I know not whether I am to expect any, and I fear not, as it is so late; I have, however, expected them with impatience; I wanted to hear of your departure from Aix, and to be able to compute, with some exactness, the time of your return. Every one teases me, and I know not what to answer. I think but of you and your journey. If I receive any letters from you after this is sent away, you may make yourself perfectly easy; for I will certainly take care to do whatever you desire me.

I write to-day a little earlier than usual. M. Corbinelli, and Mademoiselle de Méri, are here, and have dined with me. I am going to a little opera of Molière’s, that is to be sung at Jellison’s. It is an excellent composition; the prince, the duke, and the duchess, will be there. I shall, perhaps, sup at Gourville’s, with Madame de la Fayette, the duke, Madame de Thianges, and M. de Vivonne, of whom we are to take our leave, as he sets out from hence to-morrow. If this party is broken up, I shall, perhaps, go to Madame de Chaulnes, where I am earnestly invited, as well by the mistress of the house as by Cardinals de Retz and Bouillon, who made me promise them. The first of these is very impatient to see you; he loves you dearly.

It was apprehended that Mademoiselle de Blois had the small-pox, but it does not prove so. There is not a word said of the news from England; this makes me conclude there is nothing good from thence. There has been only a ball or two at Paris during the whole carnival; there were masques at noon, but not many. It is a very dull season. The assemblies at St. Germain are mortifications for the king, and only show the falling off of the carnival.

Father Bourdaloüe preached a sermon on the purification of our Lady, which transported every body. There was such energy in his discourse as made the courtiers tremble. Never did preacher enforce with so much authority, and in so noble a manner, the great truths of the Gospel. His design was to show that every power ought to be subject to the law, from the example of our Lord, who was presented at the temple. This was insisted on with all the strength and clearness imaginable; and certain points were urged with a force worthy of St. Paul himself.

The Archbishop of Rheims, as he returned yesterday from St. Germain, met with a curious adventure. He drove at his usual rate, like a whirlwind. If he thinks himself a great man, his servants think him still greater. They passed through Nanterre, when they met a man on horseback, and in an insolent tone bid him clear the way. The poor man used his utmost endeavors to avoid the danger that threatened him, but his horse proved unmanageable. To make short of it, the coach and six turned them both topsy-turvy; but at the same time the coach too was completely overturned. In an instant the horse and the man, instead of amusing themselves with having their limbs broken, rose almost miraculously; the man remounted, and galloped away, and is galloping still for aught I know; while the servants, the archbishop’s coachman, and the archbishop himself at the head of them, cried out, “Stop that villain, stop him; thrash him soundly.” The rage of the archbishop was so great, that afterward, in relating the adventure, he said, “if he could have caught the rascal, he would have broke all his bones, and cut off both his ears.”

Adieu, my dear, delightful child, I can not express my eagerness to see you. I shall direct this letter to Lyons; it is the third; the two first were to be left with the _chamarier_. You must be got thither by this time or never.