No. 18 To Josephine, at Genoa
Milan, November 27, 1796, 3 P.M.
I get to Milan; I fling myself into your room; I have left all in order to see you, to clasp you in my arms.... You were not there. You gad about the towns amid junketings; you run farther from me when I am at hand; you care no longer for your dear Napoleon. A passing fancy made you love him; fickleness renders him indifferent to you.
Used to perils, I know the remedy for weariness and the ills of life. The ill-luck that I now suffer is past all calculations; I did right not to anticipate it.
I shall be here till the evening of the 29th. Don’t alter your plans; have your fling of pleasure; happiness was invented for you. The whole world is only too happy if it can please you, and only your husband is very, very unhappy.
Bonaparte.