I received your sweet little note of August 9th, my very dear friend. I think much and often about those happy hours and days that I spent with you, in your charming house, the seat of friendship, benevolence, and harmony, with good Mr. Brillon as well, and your lovable children. Hours and days gone by, alas, never to return!

I promised myself some rest here, but I find myself to be mistaken. I am as busy as before. It is my fault. I thought that my ambition was dead, but it was merely sleeping, and with the first opportunity, it woke up. I am happy to be with my family, my children, it is true; but for the rest, I was happier in France.

Farewell, my dear daughter, farewell.