I apologise, my dear Louis, for having left you a month without a letter
from me, as you reproach me somewhat severely. You are not afraid, I
should hope, that my friendship for you has cooled. The real cause of my
silence is that I have had nothing to tell you. The even tenor of my
existence permits only of daily repetitions of the same very simple
events. My affections being divided between my harem and my uncle
Barbassou, I revel in the tranquillity of the fields and woods, which
afford to my mind that quiet freedom which is always more or less
disturbed by the excited atmosphere of city life.

Do not imagine, however, that we have been living like monastics,
disdaining all worldly distractions: the governor is not the man to
lead the existence of a Carthusian monk. He is as much on horseback as
on foot. In the daytime we make hunting excursions; he visits his
"god-children" and my estates: you may rely upon it, I have got an
active steward in him! In the evening we receive our friends at the
château--the vicar, the Morands, father and son, and, twice a week, the
notary. We play whist at penny points, and very lively games of
piquet--only the latter not so often, as my uncle cheats at it. About
eleven o'clock the carriages are got ready to take these people home. I
then accompany my uncle to his room, and we talk over business matters,
and about my fiancée; for, of course, my marriage with his
"god-daughter" is an understood thing, and we have not even a notion of
discussing the question. Finally, when he gets sleepy, he goes to bed,
and I go off to El-Nouzha.