CXLIII
Paris, April 22, at night, 1852.
Your letter has done me much good. At this moment I am indulging in the nervousness which is sure to follow an impulsive action: impulses, as you know, are usually sincere. It is in such moments as this that base and sordid sentiments hold sway.
I am threatened with a suit for contempt of court and attack against the verdict. The case against me is strong, but everything is possible. Y siempre lo peor es cierto. Meanwhile, the École des Chartes is sharpening its claws to tear me to pieces. I shall be obliged, perhaps, to undergo an examination, and to offer an energetic defence. I hope I shall regain my energy when the moment of battle comes. At present I am bewildered and dejected. I thank you for what you tell me. I appreciate it sincerely. Try to keep well, so that, if the case should go against me, you can come to see me in prison.
CXLIV
Friday evening, May 1, 1852.
My dear mother is dead. I hope her sufferings were not great. Her features were calm, and she wore her usual sweet and gentle expression. I thank you for all the interest you have shown in her.
Good-bye. Think of me, and write to me soon.
CXLV
Paris, May 19, 1852.