I learn with pleasure that my soul is dearer to you than my body and
that your common sense is always leading you upward to better things.
The body, in fact, is little worthy of regard, and the soul has always
some light which sustains it, and renders it sensible of the memory of
a friend whose absence has not effaced his image.

I often tell the old stories in which d'Elbène, de Charleval, and the
Chevalier de Riviere cheer up the "moderns." You are brought in at the
most interesting points, but as you are also a modern, I am on my
guard against praising you too highly in the presence of the
Academicians, who have declared in favor of the "ancients."

I have been told of a musical prologue, which I would very much like
to hear at the Paris theater. The "Beauty" who is its subject would
strike with envy every woman who should hear it. All our Helens have
no right to find a Homer, and always be goddesses of beauty. Here I am
at the top, how am I to descend?

My very dear friend, would it not be well to permit the heart to
speak its own language? I assure you, I love you always. Do not change
your ideas on that point, they have always been in my favor, and may
this mental communication, which some philosophers believe to be
supernatural, last forever.

I have testified to M. Turretin, the joy I should feel to be of some
service to him. He found me among my friends, many of whom deemed him
worthy of the praise you have given him. If he desires to profit by
what is left of our honest Abbés in the absence of the court, he will
be treated like a man you esteem. I read him your letter with
spectacles, of course, but they did me no harm, for I preserved my