After the most happy advent of your power visited the manifold labors of the Gauls, I have hitherto experienced no effect of my desire in your affections. Wherefore, although we believe that even we are profited by the benefits which you have long been scattering upon the provincials, yet to me, thus far thirsting for your letters, it is as though you have only now for the first time come. For indeed, that I might not offer myself by proffering epistolary duties unbidden, I feared to break in upon those occupations by which I believed myself to be suspended, for so long a space of time, from the longed-for reading.
But since, even if tardily, at your appeal and with my writing back to your lofty summits, the order of alternating exchange has been kept in literary discourse—you who have made me answer without bashfulness—render me, as I desire, a debtor by your frequency. Nor are there lacking, if you consent, causes for commanding; there abound things which you can enjoin upon those desiring to obey: since courtesy is greater than power, nor is condescension less than dignity. For this very cause, which has furnished you the matter for writing as a reward, has taught by what works you take the greater pains to flourish amid the tribunals.
Wherefore, what was suggested to us by the honorable man, your vicar, concerning the liberation of certain captives, I have gladly fulfilled according to the command of your eminence—yet without accepting the price which the bearers brought. For if the persons themselves owe anything by origin, as to their condition, to the aforesaid magnificent man, my son Gemellus, he can distribute this which he had offered me toward the redeeming of the freeborn. But if you recognize these as born free, it is enough that the price has done its good service.