Milan, November 27, 1796, 3 P.M.
I get to Milan; I fling myself into your room; I have left all in order to see you, to clasp you in my arms.... You were not there. You gad about the towns amid junketings; you run farther from me when I am at hand; you care no longer for your dear Napoleon. A passing fancy made you love him; fickleness renders him indifferent to you.
Used to perils, I know the remedy for weariness and the ills of life. The ill-luck that I now suffer is past all calculations; I did right not to anticipate it.
I shall be here till the evening of the 29th. Don't alter your plans; have your fling of pleasure; happiness was invented for you. The whole world is only too happy if it can please you, and only your husband is very, very unhappy.
Bonaparte.
No. 19.
To Josephine, at Genoa.
Milan, November 28, 1796, 8 P.M.
I have received the courier whom Berthier had hurried on to Genoa. You have not had time to write me, I feel it intuitively. Surrounded with pleasures and pastimes, you would be wrong to make the least sacrifice for me. Berthier has been good enough to show me the letter which you wrote him. My intention is that you should not make the least change in your plans, nor with respect to the pleasure parties in your honour; I am of no consequence, either the happiness or the misery of a man whom you don't love is a matter of no moment.
For my part, to love you only, to make you happy, to do nothing which may vex you, that is the object and goal of my life.