Yvette to Henri.

Sunday 3 August

In ten days, I will leave for you, darling. Oh how slowly the days pass, my love. [Daily diary of love and longing]

7 August.

[…] This morning I picked up the Polish visa. The Czech and Russian ones have been in my passport since yesterday. And this morning, at the Polish Consulate someone offered me a place in his car to go to Warsaw.  This gentleman leaves tomorrow. I jumped the walls around me and almost accepted; but its not reasonable nor “fairplay”. I promised to stay with my service until Wednesday. So I must stay. Tomorrow I go and pick up my ticket. As soon as I do I’ll send you a telegram. You have not yet replied to the letter in which I announce my arrival. And I can’t leave without your agreement. So I am going to ask you by telegram. […] After so many years, can we say that in a week we will be together, our hearts free and happy? Perhaps we will be made ill by emotion and joy? That is very possible. It will be too sweet, too violent. But the misery will pass very quickly, darling; it won’t last as long as the joy, the good calm and bountiful joy. My love, my lovely love. [Half a page of chest. Hands, blues eyes and love].

Monday night 11 August

In three days, darling, I will be so very close to you. I could say “darling” and you would hear it. I could say “my love, I love you” and I could embrace you. And that will be our first night. It is a dream. A miraculous dream comes true. My darling, my little one, I feel your impatience as I do my own. I received this morning your telegram. ”I await with impatient tumultuous heart. Kisses. Henri”. [Love, love rousing love] Oh Henry! Quickly, quickly that I am in your arms, close to the breath. I love you. […]

Your Yvette.

This is the fifth letter I have sent you by civil post from Vienna. Have you received them darling? Write to me, lots, lots, every day, darling.