Spring 1797
To Josephine,
I love you no longer; on the contrary, I detest you. You are [...] truly perverse, truly stupid, a real Cinderella. You never write to me at all, you do not love your husband; you know the pleasure that your letters give him [...]! What then do you do all day, Madame? What business is so vital that it robs you of the time to write to your faithful lover?[...] Who can this wonderful new lover be who takes up your every moment, rules your days and prevents you from devoting me your attention?
Your indignant husband,
N. Bonaparte
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