Part 18 (1/2)

VII

[Two significant letters follow, one of which is the young girl's answer.]

MADEMOISELLE,--Having opened a few days ago one of the finest books written in this age, I read these charming words: ”To be with those we love is enough. To dream, talk, keep silence, think of them, think of more indifferent things, but to be _near them_, is all one.”

I could not see those words, Mademoiselle, without thinking of you, and I could not help adding: ”What a torment it is to be far from her whom one loves.” After thinking of that, I could not help writing.

I do not know whether you will take this for sterling truth; I mean to say, whether you will believe what I say. I am persuaded that you will not be in the least tempted to doubt my sincerity; but I do not know whether you will make much account of it. Here you are accused, you Dutch people, of loving only bills of exchange. As for me, I know a man who would value more highly than gold, however bright it may be, a compliment from you that would be as sincere as the one I have just paid you. I am, etc.--COSTE.

OATES, _6th February 1699_, O.S.

Pay the bearer 99,000,000,000 and a few millions, within six days, on sight.

Mademoiselle Suson Brun, the Her-Gracht, Amsterdam.

VIII

THE ANSWER TO THE ABOVE

MONSIEUR,--I am in receipt of yours of the 6th inst., and seeing you have drawn on me a bill of 99,000,000,000, I shall not fail to meet it when due; if there is anything in this city that I can do for you, I am yours to command. That is, Monsieur, the extent of the business gibberish I have acquired in five years' time. If you ask me only to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, you are now satisfied; but I should not be if I did not speak a language less barbarous and more intelligible than that one to persons like you and me. So I shall tell you, Monsieur, that of all the letters that I have received from you, none pleased me more than the last.

You ever love me, you say, and if you read some sweet thing, you remember me; I own I did not dare expect that from you; not but that I know you to be a sincere and true friend, but I was afraid of the distance, the fine ladies you would find in England and the persons of merit[297] you see every day; but above all I was afraid of human nature, unfit, it is said, for constancy; I beg your pardon, Monsieur, if I have confounded you with so many people from whom you deserve to be distinguished, as much on this score as on others already known to me ere I was convinced of the last.

If the esteem I have for you was not of the highest, it would no doubt increase on discovering in you so rare a virtue, for I terribly love kind friends, and though of a s.e.x to whose lot levity falls, nothing would pain me more than to cease loving one I had loved: what pleasure therefore it is for me who have loved, love, and will love you all my life, to have a friend such as I should wish to have! Ever love me, dear Monsieur, and believe that the brightness of gold, though I am in Holland, will never cause me such pleasure as the mere thought of having a friend tried by time. But I know not of what I am thinking. You ask only for a compliment and I am returning professions of love and lengthily too; no matter, compliments are only compliments, that is to say speeches generally devoid of meaning and that are far from expressing the true feelings of the heart, consequently they would be unfit to express the sincerity of the friends.h.i.+p I entertain for you; for

Of loyal friends if the fas.h.i.+on is lost, _I_ still love as women loved of old.

I write down those lines with a trembling hand, not knowing very well how that sort of thing must be put, but the lines express so fully my meaning that I thought you might overstep the rules, if the rhythm is not right; however that may be, you must be persuaded that such are the feelings of your kind friend.

(From Amsterdam, _3rd March 1699_.)

IX

[A gap in the correspondence. Two years later Coste writes the following letters.]

TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON

... Last century, you were infatuated with wit, you say, and you thought yourself bound to write in a sublime style. Don't tell me that, Mademoiselle. I know you too well to believe that of you. I know that last century your mind had depth and strength and you were strong-minded; you wrote well, knowing what tone to a.s.sume and never departing from it. If that be a fault, you are not rid of it at the beginning of this century....

As for me, I fancy that a charming shepherdess who, after talking to her shepherd about rain and fair weather, suddenly said without regard to connection in subjects: ”Oh, dear Tirtis, how I love thee!” would persuade him far better than a more witty shepherdess who, coming more skilfully to the point, said: ”See the lamb yonder, how pretty it is, how charmingly it frisks about the gra.s.s, it is my pet, I love it much, but, dear Tirtis, less than thee!” That is more witty but not so moving, if I am to believe those skilled in the matter....

”Yes, in my heart your portrait is engraved So deeply that, had I no eyes, Yet I should never lose the idea Of the charming features that Heaven bestowed on thee.”

X

TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON BRUN