[Extract]

. . . I was very ill during the first part of the voyage, but I could have given myself the consolation of the wicked, which is to suffer in a numerous company. I treated myself in my own way, and I recovered sooner than the others. Now I feel almost as if I were on land. Once I arrive, I am sure that I shall have acquired the hardiness that will assure me perfect health for a long time. Do not fancy, dear heart, that I shall run great risks in my service here. The post of general officer has always been regarded as a warrant for long life. I shall have functions different from those I would have performed in France, as a colonel, for example. In the former grade, one serves only in councils of war. Ask any of the French generals of which there are so many because, once they have reached that rank, they no longer run any risk, and consequently do not make room for others, as in the other ranks. To prove that I do not wish to deceive you, I shall admit that at present we are in some danger because we risk being attacked by English vessels, and my ship does not have the strength to defend itself. But once I land I shall be in perfect safety.² You see that I tell you everything, dear heart, so have confidence in what I say, and do not be anxious without cause. I will not write a journal of my voyage for you; one day follows another here, and, what is worse, they are all alike. Always the sky, always the water, and again the next day the same thing. In truth, the people who write volumes about an ocean passage must be cruel babblers. For, like them, I have had contrary winds, I have made a very long voyage, I have endured storms, I have seen some ships, and they were much more interesting to me than to any other person. Well, I have not noticed anything that was worth the trouble of writing down, or which has not been described by everyone . . .