“No.”
“Very well. I am going to write two Russian sentences on these slips of paper. One of these sentences contains an impious thought. From what you have told me, one of these papers will horrify you. Will you make the test?”
He accepted. I wrote the sentences. He kneeled down and prayed; then suddenly he exclaimed:
“My God is unwilling to accept a frivolous experiment. It would have to be something of serious importance.”
Do you not admire the prudence of this poor lunatic, who feared that, unknowingly, the experiment would not turn out favourably?
Good-bye. I await a prompt reply.
CC
Paris, July 21, 1859.
My letter of yesterday crossed with yours. That is to say, it was no letter that you sent me, but a most exasperating curl-paper. I can readily fancy the frivolous life you are leading, now that you are reassured as to your brother’s safety.
I am really ill, from the effects of the intense heat, and from the absolute lack of sleep and appetite. I doubt not that in both respects you have nothing of which to complain. It seems to me at times that I am making rapid strides towards the tomb. This thought is sometimes most persistent, and I should like to be diverted from it. This is one reason why I wish so eagerly to see you. You will receive both of my letters at the same time. I hope you will answer explicitly and literally.