But  do  not  believe  that  if  you  merely  answer  I  can  always
remain  silent,  for  that  would  be  impossible ;  I  shall  never  cease
to  write,  and  in  place  of  the  two  words  I  promised  you  I  shall
write  two  thousand ;  and  at  last  I  shall  do  so  much  by  letters
of  a  cruel  length  and  mortal  dulness,  that  I  shall  compel  you,
in  spite  of  yourself,  to  beg  for  pardon,  that  is  to  say,  to  sue  for
your  life.  Do  so,  then,  with  a  good  grace.
"  For  the  rest,  when  you  were  bled  I  felt  the  effect  of  it.
Was  it  not  the  i/th  of  this  month?  Exactly :  it  did  me  all  the
good  in  the  world ;  pray  accept  my  thanks  for  it.  I  am  so
difficult  to  bleed  that  it  is  a  charity  on  your  part  to  allow  your
arm  to  be  bled  instead  of  mine.  .  .  ."

This  last  is  a  little  bit  of  nonsense  of  Madame  de  Sevigne's,
who  always  declared  that  there  was  such  an  affinity  between
herself  and  her  cousin,  that  when  anything  happened  to  the  one
it  affected  the  other.  She  probably  wrote  it  at  the  end  of  her
long  arraignment  in  order  that  the  whole  letter  might  not  have
a  bitter  flavour  throughout.
