Ineed not acquaint you, my dear friend, that Madame d’ Ostalis was this morning, the 4th of Jan. happily delivered of a son, because I knew before she was put to bed, she wrote you a billet to acquaint you with the news. But at least you shall hear from me, that our amiable Nun, Cecilia, arrived last night. I have seen her, I have wept with her, and I have passed an hour and a half alone with her. If you wish to know the particulars, attend to me. On getting up from table to-day, I received a letter written in an unknown hand; I looked at the signature, and saw Cecilia. I instantly rung, and ordered my carriage, and then read my letter, which was only to express her thanks, &c. But it was written in the most elegant and interesting stile imaginable. It recalled to my mind that affecting letter she wrote to her sister in the first moments of her despair. I forgot that ten years are elapsed since that time; I forgot that she was now a reasonable being, and had derived consolation from experience. My heart was deeply affected; and in this disposition I got into my carriage; during my ride, I found myself so much interested for her, that I entered her apartment with the same tenderness and emotion that I should have experienced had it been the same morning she had taken the veil. I went in hastily, and found her sitting at a little table writing, and alone. As soon as she heard my name announced, she rose from her seat, came to me, and I embraced her with great tenderness. For a few moments I was unable to speak, having an inexpressible weight on my spirits: and I found that great misfortunes inspire one with as much respect and admiration, as we feel for persons possessed of superior qualities. Nothing appears to me more noble, than a person who has been persecuted by fortune, and who has submitted with resolution to her destiny.