Maurice embraces you; I shall go to Paris without him: he is drawn
on the jury for the 2 September till...no one knows. It is a
tiresome task. Aurore is very cunning with her arms, she offers them
to you to kiss; her hands are marvels and they are incredibly clever
for her age.
Au revoir, then, if I can only pull myself out of the state I am now
in. Insomnia is the devil; in the daytime one makes a lot of effort
not to sadden others. At night one falls back on oneself.
LXV. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, at Croisset
Nohant, 10 September, 1867
Dear old fellow,
I am worried at not having news of you since that illness of which
you spoke. Are you well again? Yes, we shall go to see the rollers
and the beaches next month if you like, if your heart prompts you.
The novel goes on apace; but I shall besprinkle it with local color
afterwards.
While waiting, I am still here, stuck up to my chin in the river
every day, and regaining my strength entirely in this cold and shady
stream which I adore, and where I have passed so many hours of my
life reviving myself after too long sessions in company with my ink-
well. I go definitely to Paris, the 16th; the 17th at one o'clock, I
leave for Rouen and Jumieges, where my friend Madame Lebarbier de
Tinan awaits me at the house of M. Lepel-Cointet, the landowner; I
shall stay there the 18th so as to return to Paris the 19th. Will it
be inconvenient if I come to see you? I am sick with longing to do
so; but I am so absolutely forced to spend the evening of the 19th
in Paris that I do not know if I shall have the time. You must tell
me. I can get a word from you the 16th in Paris, 97 rue des
Feuillantines. I shall not be alone; I have as a travelling
companion a charming young literary woman, Juliette Lamber. If you
were lovely, lovely, you would walk to Jumieges the 19th. We would
return together so that I could be in Paris at six o'clock in the
evening at the latest. But if you are even a little bit ill still,
or are PLUNGED in ink, pretend that I have said nothing, and prepare
to see us next month. As for the WINTER walk on the Norman coast,
that gives me a cold in my back, I who plan to go to the Gulf of
Juan at that time.
I have been sick over the death of my friend Rollinat. My body is
cured, but my soul! I should have to stay a week with you to refresh
myself in your affectionate strength; for cold and purely
philosophical courage to me, is like cauterizing a wooden leg.
I embrace you and I love you (also your mother). Maurice also, what
French! One is happy to forget it, it is a tiresome thing.