Prince de Carpgne to Duchesse de Rochefort, 12 May 17--

My dearest darling Maria,

You are gone! How can I begin to express my sorrow at what I can only hope will be a temporary parting! Alas, I am sated that our paths were able to cross once more before you departed. How is the estate? And the husband? Both frightful and as cold and inhospitable as one another, I should expect.

And just guess who is your replacement at court? My dearly-remembered Duchesse de 'Farce', it seems! Oh how we have laughed about her in absentia, never imagining this day would come! She is virtually toothless, practically hairless and quite deaf as a post - I am now lying here with a snifter of warmed brandy to soothe my strepped throat from making myself heard. Despite all this, her eyes - and, unfortunately, her memory - are as sharp as a rapier, and able to do equal damage.

Need I remind you of our history! Egads, the woman dropped me in the pissoir as a child! You know the continual difficulties I have with finding perruques to fit correctly - it is all her doing! She is most irritating - and, what is worse, I fear she has lodged herself permanently at Versailles!

The above understandably makes the need for my own estate - or at very least some form of retire away from court - all the more pressing. Incidentally, madame, if I were to take such a place (and believe me the lease is all but signed) would it not be easy for us to meet once again there and continue our harpsichord lessons? I remember always how you discouraged me from hammering away at the keys, and with that memory in mind I even now try to temper my technique to suit your demands, albeit with far lesser than your fine instrument at my disposal.

On the subject of which, I dread to confess that the Comtesse de Noailles is searching for a suitable matrimonial match for myself. I felt if you could not hear it from mine own lips, my quill would be the next finest. Despite my urgings to the contrary (in the somewhat rash letter I penned and which you find enclosed), I am certain the Comtesse will heed my father's hypocritical suggestions and pair me with a girl so bashful her cheeks never need know the rouge-pot, so modest her neckerchief reaches her ears, and so virginal one would need to take a pick and shovel to bed! I look forward to the altar as one would the scaffold.

Enough from me-- if you wish more, madame, you will need write to me. Or better yet, visit my new lodgings when they are secured.

I kiss your hand, madame.
WL