Henri to Yvette.

Warsaw 29 July

My sweet darling.

Just a few words for I hasten to get into bed and without any movement lie very close to you.  There is nothing more passionate now for me, in the dark and with the sounds of a faraway music coming in from the window, than to dream of you, of your return, of our meeting.

At the station, then in the street, then in the room.  Our words, our looks, our silences, all these penetrate me, invade me with a nervous and languishing joy. Darling darling, very soon

Soon I will say “Yvette” and you will hear it. And you will reply. Oh how I love you darling! It is incomprehensible by what magic such a power can inhabit me!  Extraordinary!

Two days ago, permission to issue you a visa was sent by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to the Consulate in Vienna. By the time you read this, you will no doubt have the visa in your pocket. I will try to arrange the matter of the ticket. I don’t know whether I will succeed because I have begun it a little too late. I should no doubt have done it in May to be in time. If I succeed, I will telegraph you. If not, you will have to fix it and here I will be able to reimburse you. Or better, give me quickly a sign that you can’t fix it and then I will try even harder to do something. About your journey to France, don’t do anything; we will arrange it for the best. But the thought of your departure gives me the horrors. Once again to stay by yourself!  But we won’t talk of that now. It’s rather funny about your lodging because I am still living very badly and the apartment won’t be finished for at least another six weeks.  Warsaw is a city in ruins whose population already is more than 60% of the pre-war figure. So you understand the crush and it’s not funny.  But that too will arrange itself. Everything will arrange itself since you love me.

Oh sweet, dear little beloved Yvette- how beloved.

I embrace you and I await you darling.

Yvette, my wife.

Henri