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September 28th.
My Dear Prosper -- It is a long time since I have given you of my news, and I don't know what puts it into my head to-night to recall myself to your affectionate memory. I suppose it is that when we are happy the mind reverts instinctively to those with whom formerly we shared our exaltations and depressions, and _je t'eu ai trop dit, dans le bon temps, mon gros Prosper_, and you always listened to me too imperturbably, with your pipe in your mouth, your waistcoat unbuttoned, for me not to feel that I can count upon your sympathy to-day. _Nous en sommes nous flanquees des confidences_ -- in those happy days when my first thought in seeing an adventure _poindre a l'horizon_ was of the pleasure I should have in relating it to the great Prosper. As I tell thee, I am happy; decidedly, I am happy, and from this affirmation I fancy you can construct the rest. Shall I help thee a little? Take three adorable girls. three, my good Prosper -- the mystic number -- neither more nor less. Take them and place thy insatiable little Leon in the midst of them! Is the situation sufficiently indicated, and do you apprehend the motives of my felicity?