Your letter, my sweet papa, gave me real pleasure, but if you want to make me still happier, stay in France until you can see my sixth generation. I am only asking you for 15 or 16 years; my granddaughter will be ready for marriage early, she is beautiful, she is strong! I am now savoring a new feeling, my good papa, to which my heart abandons itself with satisfaction. It is so sweet to love! I have never understood how there could be beings so adverse to themselves that they repulse all friendship. There are ingrates, they say. Yes, one can be deceived, it is a bit hard at times, but it is not always the case; knowing oneself incapable of taking revenge inspires a feeling of pride that soothes the betrayal.

My little nursing mother is charming and fresh as the morning rose. The baby, the first few days, had some hard work getting accustomed to so firm a breast, with such a dainty, short nipple, but the patience and the courage of the mother won the day. Everything is going well, and nothing is more endearing than this sight: a pretty young woman feeding a beautiful child, a father who cannot take his eyes off them and joins his wife in taking care of the child. Often, my eyes fill with tears and my heart delights, my lovable papa. You are so sensitive to the value of all pertaining to beautiful and good Nature that I owed you these details. My daughter asks me to give you her thanks and compliments; my youngest daughter, my men pay their respects, and I, my friend, I beg you to believe that my friendship and my existence will always be one and the same for you.