Dear Friend: I am writing you in the blues, and in the midst of my preparations for departure. I am to start to-morrow morning, and, if I succeed in reaching Toulon in time for the train, expect to be in Paris the following night. I had hoped to prolong my stay here until the conclusion of the inquiry; but, on the one hand, I have had conferred on me an honour which I could very well have done without, and which compels me to be punctual. Besides this, I am told that the Senate is papist and legitimist, and that my voice will not be out of place when the vote is taken. This sort of thing is repugnant to me, and if it can be done, I shall keep out of it as long as possible.
These last days I have had quantities of visitors, which has prevented me from writing to you. I have had friends from Paris, and Mr. Ellice, who came to spend several days with me, so that it became necessary to play the cicerone, to take them everywhere in the suburbs, and to hold a plenary court. Contrary to my custom, therefore, I am bringing back with me very few drawings.
Your absence from Paris has been the cause of two misfortunes. The first is, that I forgot entirely the gift of books for Madame de Lagréné’s daughters. In the next place, I forgot also Sainte-Eulalie. There is nothing in this country which could have been sent to Paris, except flowers, and God only knows in what condition they would have reached there. Do advise me what to do. I am as embarrassed as usual, and this time I have not the resource of throwing my trouble on your shoulders.
I am grateful to you for all the trouble you are taking about the gebira. I should like it a little large, because I expect to wear it in my journeys as a night-robe.
The poor duchesse de Malakof is an excellent woman, but not over-clever, especially in French. She seems to be altogether dominated by her frightful beast of a husband, who is boorish from habit, and, perhaps, from choice. They say, however, that she adapts herself to him remarkably well. If you see her, mention me, and our dramatic entertainments in Spain. I was told that her brother, who is a very pleasant fellow, good-looking, and a poet in the bargain, was to spend some time with her in Algiers. Good-bye, dear friend. Keep well, and take care of yourself.
CCXXXIV
Paris, March 21.
Dear Friend: I thank you for your letter. Since my return to Paris, I have been completely besotted. There was, in the first place, our exhibition in the Senate, where like M. Jourdain, I may say that never have I been so satiated with silliness. Everybody had in reserve a discourse to which he had to give utterance. So strong is the contagion of example, that I delivered my speech in a free-and-easy way, without the slightest preparation, like M. Robert Houdin. I was terribly frightened, but succeeded in overcoming it by saying to myself that I was in the presence of two hundred imbeciles, and that there was no occasion to be nervous. The joke was that M. Walewski, to whom I wished to give a fine budget, took offence because I praised his predecessor, and declared openly that he had voted against my proposition.
M. Troplong, beside whom I was seated in my position as secretary, whispered to me his condolences; to which I replied that a minister who is not thirsty can not be compelled to drink. This was repeated immediately to M. Walewski, who took it for an epigram, and who since then has scowled on me, which has not prevented me from going my own gait.
The second vexation of the present time is to dine out, officially or otherwise, on the same fish, the same filet, the same lobster, and so on, and even the same persons, all as tiresome as they were the last time.