To the Chevalier Dubois, at Malta.

I have now, my dear Dubois, been two days in this agreeable retreat: It is impossible to describe to you the agitation of my mind at setting out; I wished with ardency to see the charming Zilia, yet feared that sight might awaken such sensations in my soul, as I wished, if possible, might sleep.

I knew I should meet with her with all the warmth of the most lively friendship, but my heart whispered me, it was not likely to stop there: Thus wavering, thus perplexed, I was not much inclined to talk; my fellow-travellers observed my reverie, and endeavoured to draw me from it, by enquiring what passed in my journies to and from Malta, and how I passed my time when there; their questions teazed me, and I could scarcely answer with good humour.

At length we arrived, and I summoned all my resolution, to keep within the bounds I had prescribed myself. Zilia, after having saluted my sister, ran to me, with her usual frankness, calling me her dear brother; I caught her in my arms, and while I embraced her, felt a rapture, which told me, that was not the name I wished her to know me by: A sigh escaped me, as she disengaged herself; whether it was observed I know not, but she diverted our attention, by making us take notice of the little alterations she had made in the house and gardens, since my departure.

We dined together with great chearfulness; plenty, neatness, and elegance reigned at table, and Zilia did the honours with a grace that enchanted us. How comes it that this dear girl, without seeming to take pains, has, in so short a time, acquired that easy address, which is the study of great part of the lives of our French ladies? Indeed she has learned all the politeness of an European court, without having lost that native simplicity which adorned the beauteous Indian.