Mio maestro," I said to him; "then we can understand each other."
"What, you too!" he said, smiling.
I lowered my head; then I showed him all that brilliant Paris which was present, and said:—
"To cast one's diamonds and pearls into that mud—"
And at that moment my eyes fell upon "Delmar's" box.
Monday, December 1.
My letter has remained for eight days on, in, and underneath "Le Père Goriot." I have had a thousand money worries, but I am getting out of them. Never have I been so powerful to get through this business by my firm will. Another few months, and I am saved.
Within a few days a little joy has come to me. After much pressing, and receiving no for an answer for the last three years, they have consented to sell me "La Grenadière." So I shall have a retreat for study, and the furniture, books, and arrangements I should make will remain mine. I could live there six months, incognito, without seeing any one. So here I am, very happy—so far as a material thing can give happiness.
You have been proud of "Père Goriot." My friends declare that it is comparable to nothing, and is above all my other compositions.