Has this lovely weather nothing to say to you? It gives me new life, seemingly. I waited for you almost all of yesterday. Why, I do not know; but it seemed to me that you must have known that I was expecting you. Come, then, as quickly as you can, for I have a great many things to say to you. I do not know whether they wish to hang me or not. I am told sometimes one thing, sometimes another. What makes me fidgety is the thought of a public ceremony[13] in the presence of the flower of the rabble, and three black-robed imbeciles, stiff as posts, and imagining that they are somebody. The worst of it is that one does not dare to express the utter contempt he feels for their robes, for themselves, and for their intelligence.
CXLVI
Paris, May 22, 1852.
Did our walk fatigue you? Tell me at once that it did not. I expected a word from you to-day. I am in the hands of my lawyer,[14] who pleases me very much. He seems to be a man of intelligence, not too talkative, and he understands the affair as clearly as I. This raises my hopes.
CXLVII
May, 1852, Wednesday, 5 P.M.
Two weeks of imprisonment and a fine of one thousand francs! My lawyer spoke finely for me; the judges were very polite; I was not in the least nervous. In short, I am less dissatisfied than I might be. I shall not appeal.
CXLVIII
May 27, 1852, at night.