Paris.

Ah! Madame, you alone can conceive the condition I am in and the griefs which surround me! … To you I may disclose that grief of which here I conceal the greatest part in my own breast; you will share it; you feel it yourself. Alas! at break of day to-morrow they depart! … They wished to deceive and persuade us, that they did not set out before Monday or Tuesday. I pretended to believe them; but I knew the truth this morning … What a supper this last! … Mons. d’ Aimeri and the Chevalier dined here: they did not leave me till five, and Monsieur d’ Almane and Theodore returned with them at seven: this eagerness alone would have made me suspicious. We supped together; the manner Monsieur d’ Almane had placed us at table had something very remarkable in it: I was seated between him and my son, Adelaide was on her father's right hand; he told the Chevalier to sit on the other side of her; and he, fearing he did not hear right, obliged Mons. d’ Almane to repeat this invitation twice … The conversation was very melancholy and ill supported. You are sensible how difficult it is to forbear weeping when we speak; Adelaide and I were silent … When we rose from table, I felt I had so little command over myself, that I resolved to retire for a minute … At eleven Monsieur d’ Aimeri looked at his watch, and I saw him make a sign to Monsieur d’ Almane; presently they all arose; my husband and son drew near, and in an hesitateing manner bid me good night; on embracing them, I could not refrain my tears. I felt my son's flow; my face was bathed with them – Adelaide, shocked and comprehending but too readily that these embraces were a farewell, came and threw herself between her father and brother – At length Monsieur d’ Almane snatched himself from our arms, and took some steps towards the door.