Dear good master,
Can you, for le Temps, write on Dernieres Chansons? It would oblige
me greatly. Now you have it.
I was ill all last week. My throat was in a frightful state. But I
have slept a great deal and I am again afloat. I have begun anew my
reading for Saint-Antoine.
It seems to me that Dernieres Chansons could lend itself to a
beautiful article, to a funeral oration on poetry. Poetry will not
perish, but its eclipse will be long and we are entering into the
shades.
Consider if you have a mind for it and answer by a line.
CCXV. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, in Paris
Nohant, 17 February
My troubadour, I am thinking of what you asked me to do and I will
do it; but this week I must rest. I played the fool too much at the
carnival with my grandchildren and my great-nephews.