Chapter II: Letter I: IN THE COUNTRY, June 26, 1655

I had no doubt that you would take some opportunity of bidding me adieu, either at my own house or from the camp at Landrecy. As I am not a woman of ceremony, I am content with the latter; and have not even thought of being angry, that you failed in coming to me before you set out.

I have not stirred from this desert, since your departure; and, to speak frankly, I am not much afflicted to find that you are with the army. I should be an unworthy cousin of so brave a cousin, if I were sorry to see you, during the present campaign, at the head of the finest regiment in France, and in so glorious a post as the one you hold. I dare say you would disown any sentiments less worthy than these; I leave weaker and more tender feelings to the true bagnio gentry. Every one loves in his own way. I profess to be heroic as well as you, and am proud to boast of these sentiments. Some women, perhaps, would think this a little in the old Roman style, and _would thank God they were not Romans_,[4] that they might still preserve some feelings of humanity. But on this subject I can assure them I am not so inhuman as they suppose; and, with all my heroism, I wish your safe return as passionately as they can do. I trust, my dear cousin, you will not doubt the truth of this, nor that I fervently pray your life may be spared. This is the adieu you would have received from me in person, and which I now beg you to accept from hence, as I have accepted yours from Landrecy.

[4] Verse from Corneille’s tragedy of the Horatii.