I cannot help envying you. It is bitterly cold here, like winter, and neuralgia is flitting about my twitching face and shrinking head. But I will not inflict my little woes upon you, and only write this word to say I am sending you my book The Black Spaniel. It is a very slight and mixed affair this time—my last book of stories I think. The new novel I have some hopes of your liking, as I hope I have imprisoned something of our beloved Sicily in it. Now I am doing the last act—the last to be done, I mean, of my play for Wyndham. Yes, we will meet in Africa, if the gods are kind. I expect to leave England for Rome on Dec. 3. I am looking forward to Biskra immensely but must try to settle in there as must be working then.... How are you both? Happy in the sun? All blessings upon you and your work.
Ever yours affectionately,
Roberto.
It had been planned that after the New Year Mr. Hood, Mr. Hichens, my husband and I should go together to Biskra. But as the autumn waned, we realised the unwisdom of making any such plans. On hearing of our reluctant decision Mr. Hichens wrote:
Nov., 1905.
My dear Will,
Your letter was really a blow, but of course I thoroughly understand that you must not risk such a journey. I am grieved about your delicate health. You must take great care and stay in places where you can have your comforts. I wish Rome suited you both. I am suffering from London dyspepsia. Today there is a thick fog and I envy you all tremendously. I am counting the days till I can start for Rome. How is Taormina? Alec describes it as warm and splendid, and pretends that he needs a sun umbrella and a straw hat! Perhaps you are all bathing in the sea! Oh, these travellers’ tales! I am going out to bathe in the fog, so au revoir. Love to you both, kindest regards to Etna from
Yours ever affectionately,
Roberto.