MILAN, March 25th, 1859.
MY FRANZ,
I am once more on my travels without having told you anything about them; tired out as I am by the Brera, the "Cena", the Cathedral, etc., I do not want to go to bed before sending you two words of news.
In order not to interrupt the composition of my third act, I came to the conclusion that I ought to begin it in a place where I might finish it. I have selected Lucerne for the purpose; you know how dearly I love the Lake of Lucerne; the Righi, Pilatus, etc., are indispensable remedies to me and my blood. I shall live there in solitude, and at this time of the year shall easily find a most desirable lodging. There I mean to work splendidly. My Erard has already preceded me.
My health gives me still much trouble, otherwise I am fairly well off, but with your friendly cousin in Vienna, who thinks so little of your advantage, I have still a bone to pick. About that next time. I should, no doubt, have had news from you if, in my last letter, I had not again given you such a dose of gravy. I should have been only too happy to receive a sign of life from you, even if that matter had not been mentioned with a word. I hoped for it from day to day, and in that idle hope neglected advising you of my intended change of abode.
As soon as I am settled again I shall write better and more, without waiting for you to ask me. For today these preliminary lines must suffice. A thousand cordial greetings.
Your
R. W.
LUCERNE, poste restante.
287.