No. 24.
To Josephine, at Bologna.
February 16, 1797.
You are melancholy, you are ill; you no longer write to me, you want to go back to Paris. Is it possible that you no longer love your comrade? The very thought makes me wretched. My darling, life is unbearable to me now that I am aware of your melancholy.
I make haste to send you Moscati, so that he may look after you. My health is rather bad; my cold gets no better. Please take care of yourself, love me as much as I love you, and write me every day. I am more uneasy than ever.
I have told Moscati to escort you to Ancona, if you care to come there. I will write to you there, to let you know where I am.
Perhaps I shall make peace with the Pope, then I shall soon be by your side; it is my soul's most ardent wish.
I send you a hundred kisses. Be sure that nothing equals my love, unless it be my uneasiness. Write to me every day yourself. Good-bye, dearest.
Bonaparte.
No. 25.