Madame，I have this moment learned that you are ill.If I were in Paris，I should call myself to ask after you，and if my son were here with me，I should send him to find out how you are.But I cannot leave C，and Armand is six or seven hundred leagues away.Allow me therefore simply to say，Madame，how grieved I am by your illness，and please believe that I hope most sincerely for your prompt recovery.
One of my closest friends，Monsieur H，will call on you.He has been entrusted by me with an errand the result of which I await with impatience.Please receive him，and oblige
Your humble servant……
This is the letter I have received.Your father is a man of noble heart：love him well，my dear，for there are few men in the world who deserve as much to be loved.This note，signed by him in full，has done me more good than all the preions dispensed by my learned doctor.
Monsieur H came this morning.He seemed terribly embarrassed by the delicate mission which Monsieur Duval had entrusted to him.He simply came to hand over a thousand ecus from your father.At first，I would not take the money，but Monsieur H said that by refusing I should offend Monsieur Duval，who had authorized him to give me this sum in the first instance and to supplement it with anything further I might need.I accepted his good offices which，coming from your father，cannot be regarded as charity.If I am dead when you return，show your father what I have just written about him，and tell him that as she penned these lines，the poor creature to whom he was kind enough to write this comforting letter，wept tears of gratitude and said a prayer for him.
4 January
I have just come through a succession of racking days.I never knew how much pain our bodies can give us.Oh！my past life！I am now paying for it twice over！
I have had someone sitting with me each night.I could not breathe.A wandering mind and bouts of coughing share what remains of my sorry existence.
My dining-room is crammed full of sweets and presents of all kinds which friends have brought me.Among these people，there are no doubt some who hope that I shall be their mistress later on.If they could only see what illness has reduced me to，they would run away in horror.
Prudence is using the presents I have been getting as New Year gifts to tradesmen.
It has turned frosty，and the doctor has said that I can go out in a few days if the fine weather continues.
8 January
Yesterday，I went out for a drive in my carriage.The weather was splendid.There were crowds of people out on the Champs-Elysees.It seemed like the first smile of spring.Everywhere around me there was a carnival atmosphere.I had never before suspected that the sun's rays could contain all the joy，sweetness and consolation that I found in them yesterday.
I ran into almost all the people I know.They were as high-spirited as ever，and just as busily going about their pleasures.So many happy people，and so unaware that they are happy！Olympe drove by in an elegant carriage which Monsieur de N has given her.She tried to cut me with a look.She has no idea how far removed I have grown from such futilities.A nice boy I have known for ages asked me if I would have supper with him and a friend of his who，he said，wanted to meet me.
I gave him a sad smile and held out my hand，which was burning with fever.
I have never seen such surprise on a human face.
I got back at four o'clock and sat down to dinner with fairly good appetite.
The drive out has done me good.
What if I were to get well again！
How strongly the sight of the lives and happiness of others renews the will to live of those who，only the day before，alone with their souls in the darkness of the sickroom，wanted nothing better than to die soon！
10 January
My hopes of recovery were an illusion.Here I am once more confined to my bed，my body swathed in burning poultices.Go out now and try hawking this body of yours which used to fetch such a pretty price，and see what you would get for it today！
We must have committed very wiched deeds before we were born，or else we are to enjoy very great felicity after we are dead，for God to allow us to know in this life all the agony of atonement and all the pain of our time of trial.
12 January
I am still ill.
Count de N sent me money yesterday，but I did not take it.I want nothing from that man.He is the reason why you are not with me now.
Oh！happy days at Bougival！where are you now？
If I get out of this bedroom alive，it will be to go on a pilgrimage to the house where we lived together.But the next time I leave here，I shall be dead.
Who knows if I shall write to you tomorrow？
25 January
For eleven nights now，I have not slept，I have not been able to breathe，and I have thought that I was about to die at any moment.The doctor has left instructions that I was not to be permitted to touch a pen.Still，Julie Duprat who sits up with me，has allowed me to write you these few lines.Will you not return，then，before I die？Is everything between us finished forever？I have a feeling that if you did come back，I should get better.But what would be the point of getting better？
28 January
This morning，I was awakened by a loud commotion.Julie，who was sleeping in my room，rushed into the dining room.I heard men's voices，and hers battling vainly against them.She came back in tears.
They had come to repossess their goods.I told her to let what they call justice be done.The bailiff came into my room，and he kept his hat on his head the whole time.He opened the drawers，made a note of everything he saw，and did not appear to notice that there was a woman dying in the bed which the charity of the law fortunately lets me keep.
As he was going he at least agreed to inform me that I had nine days in which to appeal，but he has left a watchman here！God，what is to become of me？This scene has made me more ill than ever.Prudence wanted to ask your father's friend for money，but I said no.
