To the Chevalier Dubois, at Malta.

I date this, my dear friend, from Paris; it is the only letter you will receive before I see you, which I hope will be in a fortnight: it is the sole comfort I promise myself, after having parted with those who share my heart with yourself, and whom I left with more regret that I ever felt on the same occasion before. There was something in Zilia's manner of taking leave, which, could I form any hopes of a change of her sentiments in my favour, would flatter such hopes.

Having previously informed my brother and sister of my design, I waited on Zilia, whom I found sitting in her dressing-room, resting her cheek on her hand, which leaned on a table; her eyes fixed on the ground, and in all appearance buried in thought. The noise I made in entering, awaked her from her reverie; she rose hastily, and seemed offended at being surprised in so abrupt a manner. Pardon me, my dear Zilia, says I, the having broken in upon your more pleasing contemplations, to mention any thing which relates only to myself; I wish I had been more fortunate in my choice of the time. I know already, says she, interrupting me with great quickness, what you would say: your sister has spared you the trouble of acquainting me with your departure: I sincerely wish you all the success your merit deserves, and hope to see you returned crowned with laurels, and free from fears.

While she spoke, her countenance betrayed evident signs of confusion and uneasiness. I own it struck me, and I was at a loss what to reply; when my brother unexpectedly entered the room, and clapping me on the shoulder, in his gay manner, You are in the right, my boy, says he, to try what absence will do with this insensible mistress. Take my word for it, it will forward your passion more in a few days, than whole months of assiduous attention can do, when present.