--If you spit on the head of a man passing in the street, and then
write to him a few days after to say that all is forgiven, and that you
are sorry your aim was so accurate, you don't mend matters.
You express a hope that after what has occurred there may be no
ill-feeling between us. Well, you have done me what I consider an
injury. I have no desire to repay it; if I had a chance of doing you a
good turn, I should do it; if I heard you abused, I should stick up for
you. I have no intention of making a grievance out of it. But if you
ask me to say that I do not feel a sense of wrong, or to express a wish
to meet you, or to trust you any longer as I have hitherto trusted you,
I must decline saying anything of the kind, because it would not be
true.
Of course I know that there cannot be omelettes without breaking eggs;
and I suppose that there cannot be what are called psychological
novels, without violating confidences. But you cannot be surprised,
when you encourage an old friend to trust you and confide in you, and
then draw an ugly caricature of him in a book, if he thinks the worse
of you in consequence. I hear that the book is a great success; you
must be content with the fact that the yolks are as golden as they are.
Please do not write to me again on the subject. I will try to forget
it, and if I succeed, I will let you know.