. . . A terrible malady called inflammation of the chest placed Gros Chat in the greatest danger; and if at that time I had received the letter which you write me to-day, I feel to my joy that you would have restored my health on the instant. Alas! what power has not friendship, and the hope of seeing you? I thought that I should not have the strength to reply to you, as I can hardly hold my pen. I shall take the mail-coach to come and seek you at Colmar, and your niece at Paris, and when you are both arrived at the Hermitage des petites femmes, I shall ask for nothing more than room for my friend, her children, and myself; the rest shall be yours, on condition that we may go every day to receive your benediction and talk evil things about the wolves and the tigers, and that we may say a thousand praises of the rats. But do not give me any more vain hopes; you must make a good resolution, come and demolish the Grange of Gros Chat, and construct a villa in its place. You will have before your eyes a fine garden which I have made, and for a landscape the fields. Until then you will not be too badly lodged in the new apartment which we have arranged.

M. du Châtelet is at Cirey. He writes me that this winter has destroyed many things at his château, and that he will be ruined in repairs. He expects his son at the end of the month; they will return together to Lorraine. Could you not arrive at our hermitage during this time, and realise all the charming things which you deign to write to me? They will place me for ever at your feet, if you keep your word — and to whom should it be kept if not to friendship? . . .