of love, and also that he has met and defeated the foe at Verona.  The third letter is from Marmirolo, and shows that Bonaparte, notwithstanding his constant changes of position, had taken the precautions that Josephine’s letters should everywhere follow him; for in Marmirolo he received one, and this tender letter filled him with so much joy, thanks, and longings, that, in virtue of it, he forgets conquests and triumphs entirely, and is only the longing, tender lover.  He writes: 

“Marmirolo, the 29th Messidor, 9 in the evening “(July 17), 1796.

“I am just now in receipt of your letter, my adored one; it has filled my heart with joy.  I am thankful for the pains you have taken to send me news about yourself; with your improved health, all will be well; I am convinced that you have now recovered.  I would impress upon you the duty of riding often; this will be a healthy exercise for you.

“Since I left you I am forever sorrowful.  My happiness consists in being near you.  Constantly does my memory renew your kisses, your tears, your amiable jealousy; and the charms of the incomparable Josephine kindle incessantly a burning flame within my heart and throughout my senses.  When shall I, free from all disturbance and care, pass all my moments with you, and have nothing to do but to love, nothing to think of but the happiness to tell it and prove it to you?  I am going to send you your horse, and I trust you will soon be able to be with me.  A few days ago I thought I loved you, but since I have seen you again, I feel that I love you a thousand times more.  Since I knew you, I worship you more and more every day; this proves the falsity of La Bruyere’s maxim, which says that love springs up all at once.  Every thing in nature has its growth in different degrees.  Ah, I implore you, let me see some of your faults; be then less beautiful, less graceful, less tender, less good; especially be never tender, never weep:  your tears deprive me of my reason, and change my blood into fire.  Believe me, that it is not in my power to have a single thought which concerns you not, or an idea which is not subservient to you.

“Keep very quiet.  Recover soon your health.  Come to me, that at least before dying we may say, ‘We were happy so many, many days!’

“Millions of kisses even for Fortune, notwithstanding its naughtiness. [Footnote:  Fortune was that little peevish dog which, when Josephine was in prison, served as love-messenger between her and her children.] Bonaparte.”

But this letter, full of tenderness and warmth, is not yet enough for the ardent lover; it does not express sufficiently his longing, his love.  The very next day, from the same quarters of Marmirolo, he writes something like a postscript to the missive of the previous day.  He tells her that he has made an attack upon Mantua, but that a sudden fall of the waters of the lake had delayed his troops already embarked, and that this day he is going to try again