bert, full of your praises, and he counted on hearing you read
the " Conn^table." I am certain he will be delighted with
it ; its tragedy is on the tone of his own soul in many ways.
Adieu ; give me frequent news of you, and form no plan of
writing me four lines. Keep that intention for your acquaint-
ance ; some friends, even, may be content with it, but I am
hard to satisfy. Tell me if you have received my letters.
Paris, July 25, 1773.
No, no! do not deceive yourself; the greatest distances are not those that Nature marks with milestones ; the Indies are not so far from Paris as the date of June 27 is far from that of July 15 ; there is veritable remoteness, horrible sepa- ration, forgetfulness of the soul ! it resembles death, but is worse, because it is felt so long. But do not think I reproach you — ah ! mon Dieu ! I have not the right ; you owe me nothing, and I ought to return you thanks for any mark of your remembrance.
I knew from Baron de Kock that the camp manoeuvres would not take place. It is thought here that the Emperor and the King of Prussia have given themselves a rendezvous in some town of their new possessions ; but you have filled your time in a useful manner, so that you will regret the camps but little. What ! sincerely, do you really wish me to reduce you to my dimensions ? Is it because you find it easier to bend yourself than to raise me ? but from whatever level I look at you, you retain your own height, which is such that few men reach it. Permit me not to regard as a result of confidence and friendship what you tell me of your character. Alas ! do you know what you reveal to me by disclosing the inconsistencies which agitate you ? It is that I am stupid, that I see nothing, observe liothing ; for, if you are neither false nor dissimulating, I ought to have discovered
