I have devoured the book at a sitting, and it has given me, as do stimulants generally, mental or otherwise, a villainous headache. With the sad fate of the peerless Josephine fresh in my mind, I read with an impatient pshaw! the burning billet-doux, addressed to her by the man who could coolly thrust her aside for his mad ambition. Hear what he once said:
“Death alone can break the union, which love, sentiment, and sympathy have formed. A thousand and a thousand kisses.”
Also,
“I hope very soon to be in your arms; I love you most passionately (à la fureur).”
Also,
“I hope in a little time to fold you in my arms, and cover you with kisses burning as the equator.”
Also, this consistent lover begs from her whom he afterward deserted,
“Love without bounds, and fidelity without limit.”
How very like a man!