“La Côte St André, August 1832.—What a dainty, elusive, piquant, teasing, witty creature is this Hiller! Were we both women, I should detest her; were she, alone, a woman I should simply hate her, for I loathe coquettes. As it is—‘Providence having ordered all for the best’ as the good say—we are luckily both masculine.
“No, my dear fellow, you, being you, naturally ‘could not do otherwise’ than make me wait two months for your letter; naturally, also, I ‘could not do otherwise’ than be angry with you therefor. However, as I was not wounded to the quick by your neglect, I wrote you a second letter which I burnt, remembering Napoleon’s wise saying, ‘Certain things should never be said.’ If so, still less should they be written.
“Come now! Since you are learning Latin I will turn schoolmaster.
“There are mistakes in your letter.
“No. 1. No accent on negre.
“No. 2. De grands amusements, not des.
“No. 3. Il est possible que Mendelssohn L’AIT, not l’aura.
“Take thou good heed unto my lesson. Ouf!
“I am in the bosom of my family, by whom (particularly by my younger sister) I allow myself to be adored in an edifying manner. But oh! I long for liberty and love and money! They will come some day and perhaps also one little luxury—one of those superfluities that are necessities to certain temperaments—revenge, public and private. One only lives and dies once.
“I spend my time in copying my Mélologue; I have been two months at it hard and have still sixty-two days’ work. Am I not persevering? I am ill for want of music, positively paralysed; then I still suffer from that choleraic trouble that sometimes keeps me in bed. However, I am up to-day, getting ready for the next attack.