Vienna, May, 1835.
My cold is precisely the same. It is nothing at all. I have just received a letter from M. Hammer. I think he is annoyed, for he uses towards me that wealth of civility which is often the irony of great souls.
Did you know that the French are very coustumiers to the fact of bartering Austrian uniforms against victories, but that this ruins young empires?
I shall stay in town only the time necessary to fulfil your Majesty's orders.
I entreat you don't worry about me. People are never ill when they are happy. I do nothing; I let myself go to the happiness of living, and that is so rare with me that when it is so I don't know what could hurt me.
A thousand heart assurances.
Vienna, May, 1835.
The heat has so prostrated me that I don't know what will become of me; but as for the illness itself, it has ceased. A thousand thanks for your kindness.
I shall rush with the celerity of your valet, who is a veritable kid, and this is difficult for a Mar [Balzac's nickname among his friends was Dom Mar] whose paunch is worthy of all the illustrious paunches your cousin used to laugh at.
I have dreamed ta, I have dreamed ti, I have dreamed tchef, and of his casalba. I have come to breathe in the Walter-garten, and I send you "Lauzun" to convince you of the reality of the comedy that could be made of his amours with Mademoiselle, for I think you do not know the book.