I
Mademoiselle,—(He has been ill, has delayed answering. Compliments: the letter received has delighted him.) We must love you well to rejoice in hearing how well you are diverting yourselves at the Hague, while here we drag on our miserable lives without the least pleasure. You seem slow to believe us so unhappy, for you speak of our garden and the study therein as of an earthly paradise. But you are greatly mistaken if you imagine the place, which appeared so charming when you were there, is still so, when you are there no longer. It's quite another thing. Your absence has disturbed everything. Our garden yields no more fruit. Even the weeds no sooner spring but they wither.... Such desolation is not limited to our garden, all Amsterdam feels it. Which reminds me of a conversation that took place over a fortnight ago in a house where I happened to be in good company.... A Fleming who had come from the Hague two days before, told us how charming a place it was.... I know the reason well, said I to myself:
"Which proceeds neither from the magnificent throne
Of his British Majesty,
Nor from the Ambassadors that are gathered together here
To appease the upstirred hearts
Of all the princes in Europe.
One speedily sees, unless one be a mole,
That two Iris's have caused the vast change
And therefore
If in our business city
Such charms are not to be found
As in the large Dutch burgh,
It is because those Iris's are not there."
... Ah! had I been able, I should have simply laughed from Leyden to Harlem and leapt for joy from Harlem to Amsterdam. But that would not have been more possible than for Mlle Durand to come into the world before Mlle Rouvière.[293] When I take thought, I reflect that at bottom you do me the favour to send me your love as well as to Mlle Prades and M. de La Motte....—Coste.[294]