Good-bye. I think of you constantly in spite of all your faults....
CHÂTEAU DE FONTAINEBLEAU, _June 12, 1860_.
Why have you not written to me? For many reasons you should have done so. I have been held here all this week. I shall hope certainly to find you in Paris on my return, for, if the weather has used you as ill as it has us, you will have postponed, doubtless, your visit to the country. Nevertheless, between the showers we have made several pleasant excursions to the woods; everything is of a uniform spinach-green colour, and when the sun does not shine, it is not bad. There are rocks and heaths which would have some attraction for me if you and I were to walk there together chatting of many things, as we know how to do. But we travel in a long line of waggonettes, in which people are not always paired off for mutual amusement.
On the other hand, in no republic on earth could one enjoy more freedom, nor could host and hostess be more kind to their guests. At the same time, the days have twenty-four hours, four of which at least must be spent in tight pantaloons, which seems a little hard in such muddy, disagreeable weather.
I had a horrible cold when I first came, but, since “God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,” my other pains ceased as soon as I began to cough.
I shall not admit for an instant that you will not wait for me. It would be absurd to go to the sea-shore before the weather becomes settled, and, above all, warm. Advise your friends to be patient. I have to do the same thing, and, among others, I say this a hundred times to a person who will listen to nothing.... Good-bye....
I received your letter this morning. The rough sea of which you speak diminishes somewhat my regret for remaining in Paris. It is incredible, however, that this deuced weather should last forever, notwithstanding the sunspots mentioned in the newspapers.
Our session drags out indefinitely, which makes me furious. I have tried to find an excuse to escape, but owing to my supreme importance, which holds me tied here, it is extremely difficult to accomplish. This does not mean that I am not ready at any moment to travel a hundred leagues to dine with you, if I should receive such an invitation, and if some one cared to wait for me. This is a humble suggestion which I take the liberty to make you.