and I do not exactly
know how you would express your contempt.

Pray ask some questions about Tallien--I am still pleased with the
dignity of his conduct.--The other day, in the cause of humanity, he made
use of a degree of address, which I admire--and mean to point out to
you, as one of the few instances of address which do credit to the
abilities of the man, without taking away from that confidence in his
openness of heart, which is the true basis of both public and private
friendship.

Do not suppose that I mean to allude to a little reserve of temper in
you, of which I have sometimes complained! You have been used to a
cunning woman, and you almost look for cunning--Nay, in _managing_ my
happiness, you now and then wounded my sensibility, concealing yourself,
till honest sympathy, giving you to me without disguise, lets me look
into a heart, which my half-broken one wishes to creep into, to be
revived and cherished.----You have frankness of heart, but not often
exactly that overflowing (_epanchement de coeur_), which becoming almost
childish, appears a weakness only to the weak.

But I have left poor Tallien. I wanted you to enquire likewise whether,
as a member declared in the convention, Robespierre really maintained a
_number_ of mistresses.--Should it prove so, I suspect that they rather
flattered his vanity than his senses.

Here is a chatting, desultory epistle! But do not suppose that I mean to
close it without mentioning the little damsel--who has been almost
springing out of my arm--she certainly looks very like you--but I do not
love her the less for that, whether I am angry or pleased with you.--

Yours affectionately

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER XXIII[58-A].

September 22.

I HAVE just written two letters, that are going by other conveyances, and
which I reckon on your receiving long before this. I therefore merely
write, because I know I should be disappointed at seeing any one who had
left you, if you did not send a letter, were it ever so short, to tell me
why you did not write a longer--and you will want to be told, over and
over again, that our little Hercules is quite recovered.

Besides looking at me, there are three other things, which delight
her--to ride in a coach, to look at a scarlet waistcoat, and hear loud
music--yesterday, at the _fete_, she enjoyed the two latter; but, to
honour J. J. Rousseau, I intend to give her a sash, the first she has
e