they are divine. Paulina should be made acquainted and delighted with them; but this is calculated solely for the Rocks. I know not what book to recommend to Paulina: Davila is fine in Italian, we have read it; Guicciardini is very long; I should like the anecdotes of Medicis, which are an abridgment, but they are not in Italian. I will not name Bentivoglio again;[1] let her confine herself to poetry, I do not like Italian prose; to Tasso, Aminto, Il Pastor Fido, etc. I dare not add Ariosto, there are some bad passages in it; let her also read history; let her cherish this taste, which may long preserve her from idleness; it is to be feared that if this part of reading were suppressed there would be scarcely any thing to read; let her begin with the life of Theodosius the Great, and let her tell me how she likes it. This, my child, is a letter of trifles; we set apart some days for chatting, without offense to serious matters, in which we always take true interest.
LETTER CXVIII.
You are right, I can not reconcile myself to the date of this year; it has, however, been already begun for some time; and you will find, that, let us pass it as we may, we shall soon find the bottom of the bag that contained the thousand livres.[2]
You really spoil me, and so do my Paris friends; the sun has scarcely gained upon us a barley-corn before you tell me when you shall expect me at Grignan; and my friends desire me to fix from that hour the time of my departure, in order to hasten their joy. Such pressing civilities flatter me highly, and particularly yours, which admit of no comparison. I will, then, sincerely confide to my dear countess, that between this
- ↑ Gui Bentivoglio, cardinal, and author of the Civil Wars in Flanders, and several other works.
- ↑ Madame de Sévigné compared the twelve months of the year to a bag with a thousand livres, which is exhausted almost as soon as it is opened.
