We parted the other day equally vexed the one with the other. We were both wrong, for it was simply the force of circumstances that was to blame. It would have been better not to meet for a long time. It is evident that we can not see each other without disagreeing. We both want the impossible: you, that I should be a statue; I, that you should not be one. Each new proof of the impossibility of that which in our hearts we have never doubted causes bitterness to us both. I regret all the distress I may have caused you. I am too ready to yield to my absurd quick temper. As well get into a passion because ice is cold.
I hope you will forgive me now. I am no longer angry, only very sorrowful. I should not feel so bad if we had not parted as we did. Farewell, since we can be friends only at a distance. When we have grown old, perhaps we shall meet again with pleasure. Meanwhile, in happiness or in distress, do not forget me. I asked you this, I don’t know how many years ago. We hardly ever thought then of quarrelling.
Again, good-bye, while I have the courage to say it.
XCVII
Paris, Thursday, September 6, 1844.
It seems to me like a dream that I have seen you. We were together such a little time that I told you nothing of what I wished to say. You yourself appeared to be uncertain whether I was a reality. When shall we meet again? I am at present engaged in a most servile and tiresome business, that of canvassing for membership in the Academy of Inscriptions. Some of my experiences are ridiculous, and I am often tempted strongly to laugh at myself, a temptation which I repress, however, for fear of shocking the gravity of the Academicians. I have embarked upon this business—or, rather, others have pushed me into it—somewhat blindly. My chances are not bad, but the solicitation of votes is most repugnant to me, and the worst feature of the whole thing is that I must wait such an age for the result, certainly until the last of October, and perhaps longer.
I am uncertain whether I shall be able to go to Algiers this year. My one consoling thought is that I shall then remain in Paris, and shall, therefore, see you. Will that give you any pleasure? Tell me that it will, and humour me. I have become so callous from all these tiresome visits that I need all the tender indulgence you can grant me to put a little new courage and energy into me.
You have no cause to be jealous of the Academy. It is, of course, a matter of selfinterest for me to win, just as I should wish to win a game of chess with a skilful adversary, and yet, I fancy, neither losing nor winning will affect me a quarter as much as one of our quarrels. But what an obnoxious business is that of canvassing for votes! Have you ever seen dogs entering a badger’s hole? After they have had some experience in this occupation, they make, on entering, a desperate show of fierceness, and not infrequently come out much faster than they go in, for the badger is an ugly beast to visit. I never touch the doorbell of an Academician’s that I am not reminded of the badger, and compare myself, in my mind’s eye, to the dog I have just described. I have not yet been bitten, however, but I have had some ludicrous encounters.
Good-bye.