Adieu, dearest Sister.
XLVII.
To the Countess de Toulonjon.
Vive ✠ Jésus!
Paris, 1621.
My dearest Daughter,
The dress I am sending you is really quite perfect and is the most beautiful that can be procured. If your brother were very rich it would be a pleasure to him to pay the bill for you, but as it is he begs of you to be satisfied with his good-will, for he has not wherewith to pay it. Be content with this dress, for it is handsome and quite sufficiently stylish, and because you so long for it I want to satisfy you. M. de Toulonjon writes that you have not a single gown except the one you are wearing. I cannot understand this, as during the last seventeen months you have had four silk dresses and the brocade costume about which you told me. What then am I to think, I pray you, dear Françoise? Oh! God bless you, my daughter; do be content and let it be seen that you are the child of parents who were altogether reasonable, peaceful, and constant in their perfect affection, and this it is that I desire for you.
I write in haste. A thousand salutations to all your dear relatives. Do not expect your brother: he cannot go to you, and I do not wish him to. You have my nephew. Courage, my child, be not a silly, frivolous girl, troubling over trifles, and letting them take up your thoughts. Urge M. de Toulonjon to send me the money for the dress. The amount of the bill is, I understand, 500 livres, and I have not got the money to pay it, so let me have it by the first opportunity, as I do not wish to remain in debt here.
God bless you, dearest Françon. I am in a great hurry.