My dear papa, here is a letter from the voisin, who finds it most kind of you to have written to him; the letter that he writes to me talks only of his gratitude. He loves you, knows you, appreciates you so well, that had he not been my friend for a long time already, due to his personal qualities, he would become one now because of the way he does justice to you.

Yesterday we were at the house of Mr. Mauduit, who entertained us perfectly, although he was very disappointed not to see you. I too was deeply affected; the colors of the birds seemed less beautiful to me, than if I had seen them with you. Mr. Mauduit will come to my house for tea on Wednesday, with an officer who is very eager to see you. He is the man who took an English ship prisoner, after the ship had seized a little vessel with him aboard it. I promised to induce you to come early; I said I hoped that you would not refuse me this proof of friendship. Farewell, my dear papa. Do not say to me again, “And love me just a little more”; rather believe that no one has loved, loves or will ever love you more than I. My heart, which is the tenderest of hearts, has always had a sure gift for loving what is good and virtuous; whom then could I love more than you?