You have no idea, Sir, of the joy my grandson experienced, when I shewed him your letter, dated B— Castle. Adelaide is then in France! cried he; this emotion was much more lively, as the night before last we supped at the Intendant's, where we saw Mons. D—, who was just returned from Turin, and who talked of nothing but Madame Almane and the charming Adelaide. Charles asked him many questions, and was informed that Mademoiselle Almane was the handsomest person living; the most amiable, the most natural; that she possessed all the candour and simplicity of infancy, and all the graces of youth; that she sings in Italian, and plays on the harp like an Angel; that she draws in a superior style; that she educates a little orphan; that she is the best as well as the youngest and most charming of mothers. Mons. D— related a thousand marks of Adelaide's and Hermine's mutual tenderness. This singular adoption has interested even people who do not know you. Charles was melted almost to tears; he knows by heart all the little stories Mons. D— recounted; and he talks of nothing else to me. As an imagination of twenty years is easily inflamed, he is anxious to have the time of his duty over, in order to fly to Languedoc; but, not with standing his impatience, it is impossible that we can depart from hence till the 25th of July. Adieu, Sir! I hope, as you have now fewer occupations, you will write oftener to me; and think with great pleasure, that I shall receive no more letters fifteen days after they are dated.