“15th July 1867.—Just a few words, since you ask for them; but it is wrong of me to sadden you too.
“I am so much worse that I am really hardly alive and have barely sense enough to grasp poor Louis’ business affairs; fortunately one of his friends is helping me. Thanks for your letter; forgive my stupidity. I am fit for nothing but sleep.
“Adieu, adieu!”
To Madame Damcke at Montreux.
“Paris, 24th September 1867.—Dear Madame Damcke,—I should have written sooner had I known your address, therefore double thanks for your letter.
“My answer is short; I am as ill as usual.
“After my fifth bath at Néris the doctor, hearing me speak, felt my pulse and cried:
“‘Be off out of this as fast as you can; the waters are the worst possible for you, you are on the verge of laryngitis. Confound it all, it is really serious.’
“So off I went the same evening and was nearly choked by a fit of coughing in the train.