"You are a man who has seen much of life, and you should be a philosopher.

Hot-headed youth says ever more than it means.

Think no more of the matter.

But what have we here?
A letter from my dearest girl to her husband, the Prince de Conti.
I would pick her writing out of a thousand.

Ah, dear soul, she little thought that my eyes would see her artless prattle! Why should I read it, since I already know every thought of her innocent heart ?" He unfolded the sheet of pink scented paper with a fond smile upon his face, but it faded away as his eyes glanced down the page, and he Sprang to his feet with a snarl of anger, his hand over his heart and his eyes still glued to the paper.