I want to go and see the Prater in the morning, in its solitude. If you will, it would be very gracious; for by not beginning on the "Lys dans la Vallée" till to-morrow I must then work fourteen hours to make up for time lost. I have sworn to myself to do that work in Vienna, or else—throw myself into the Danube.
So, in twenty minutes I shall be with you to ask counsel. As for the seductions of the prince, he caught me once, but I have too much pride to be caught again; I should pass for a ninny.
A thousand heart-felt regards.
Vienna, May, 1835.
I am incapable of writing the nothings that I see come naturally to very intelligent persons; I simply put down just what comes into my head; and what came into my head was one of the things that I have at heart. Excuse me to the countess, and assure her that this is the second time I have failed over an album, and that not having the habit—and even having a horror—of them, I hope she will be indulgent to me.
Though I am not dirty, I am decidedly stupid, for I don't understand a word of what you do me the honour to say about Madame Sophie. I entreat you, have pity on my mental infirmities, and, when you make romances, put them on the level of my intellectual faculties. This may seem impertinent—it is only artless.
I have still another hour to work, and then I will come. I am busy with planning rather than writing, and I can see you while thinking; which is not the same as thinking of other things than you while seeing you.
A thousand gracious and humble thoughts before your August Despotism.
Vienna, May, 1835.
I cannot wait till one o'clock to know if you are better, whether your hoarseness and oppression have lessened, whether the foot-bath was efficacious—in short, whether all is well. Have the charity to send me a word on these important matters—for it is important to subjects to know how their princes are.