Marie Walewska

Warsaw, January, 1807.

Letter 1:
I saw no one but you, I admired no one but you, I want no one but you.
Answer me at once, and assuage the impatient passion of N.

Letter 2:
Didn't you like me, Madame? I had reason to hope you might .... Or perhaps I was wrong.
Whilst my ardour is increasing, yours is slackening its pace.
You are mining my repose!
Ah! grant a few moments' pleasure and happiness to a poor heart that is only waiting to adore you.
Is it so difficult to let me have an answer? You owe me two.
N.

Letter 3:
There are times - I am passing through one now - when hope is as heavy as despair.
What can satisfy the needs of a smitten heart, which longs to throw itself at your feet, but is held back by the weight of serious considerations, paralysing its keenest desires?
Oh, if only you would!...
No one but you can remove the obstacles that keep us apart.
My friend Duroc will make it quite easy for you. Ah! come! come! You shall have all you ask.
Your country will be dearer to me, once you have had pity on my poor heart.
N.

Letter 4:
Marie, my sweet Marie, my first thought is of you, my first desire is to see you again.
You will come again, won't you? You promised you would.
If you don't, the eagle will fly to you! I shall see you at dinner - our friend tells me so.
I want you to accept this bouquet: I want it to be a secret link, setting up a private understanding between us in the midst of the surrounding crowd.
We shall be able to share our thoughts, though all the world is looking on.
When my hand presses my heart, you will know that I am thinking of no one but you; and when you press your bouquet, I shall have your answer back!
Love me, my pretty one, and hold your bouquet tight!
N.