My dear Rose. Today I was thinking about you. If I were alone, I would write you a long letter. I was in the village, I felt good, I enjoyed the clean air and beautiful weather, but my soul yearned for you. You see, I am under an attack of tenderness. I am so changeable that even kind feelings can visit me, although I do not always like to reckon with them. When they sometimes come, I, fascinated by their rare visit, am ready to give them a warm welcome. However, I do not like the tyranny of tender feelings. But I stop my jokes. Write me more, I assure you that it will be nice.