MY DEAR PLATONIC FRIEND: We are becoming very affectionate. You say to
me, _Amigo de mi alma_, which from a woman’s lips is very sweet. You
give me no news of your health. In your former letter you told me that
my platonic friend was ill, and you should have known that I was
anxious. Be more definite in future. It is all very well for you to
complain of my reticence, you who are mystery incarnate! What more will
you have on the story of the diamond, unless it is the name? Details,
perhaps; but they would be tiresome to write, and some day they may
amuse you, when we shall find nothing to say to each other, seated in
our arm-chairs on opposite sides of the chimney corner.
Listen to the dream that I had two nights ago, and if you are sincere,
interpret it for me. Methought we were both in Valencia, in a beautiful
garden where there was an abundance of oranges, pomegranates, and other
fruits. You were seated upon a bench, resting against a hedge. Opposite
was a wall about six feet in height, separating this garden from another
garden on a much lower level. I was standing facing you, and it seemed
to me that we were speaking to each other in the Valencian tongue. _Nota
bene_, that I am able to understand Valencian with much difficulty. What
sort of a deuced language is it that one speaks in a dream, when one
speaks a language that he does not know? For lack of something else to
do, and from habit, I went and stood on a rock, looking over into the
garden below. There I saw a bench also with its back against the wall,
and seated on this bench was a Valencian gardener playing the guitar,
and my diamond was listening. This sight put me instantly in a bad
humour, but at first I gave no sign of this. The diamond raised her
head, and seemed astonished to see me, but she did not start, or appear
otherwise disconcerted.
After a time I stepped down from the stone, and said to you, casually
and without mentioning the diamond, that it would be a great joke to
throw a big stone over the top of the wall. This stone was very heavy.
You were eager to help me, and without asking any questions (which is
not natural to you), by dint of pushing we succeeded in placing the
stone on the top of the wall, and we were making ready to push it over,
when the wall itself gave way and crumbled, and we both fell with the
stone and the débris of the wall. I do not know what happened then, for
I awoke. That you may understand the scene better, I enclose a drawing
of it. I was unable to see the gardener’s face, which is most
exasperating.
You are very kind. I have said this to you frequently of late. It was
very kind of you to have answered the question that I asked you
recently. I need not tell you that your reply pleased me. You have even
said, unconsciously, perhaps, several things that have given me
pleasure, and especially that the husband of a woman who resembled you
would have your sincere sympathy. I can readily believe you, and will
add that no one could be more unfortunate unless it were a man who loved
you.
You must be cold and sarcastic in your perverse moods, with an
insuperable pride which forbids you to acknowledge when you are in the
wrong. Add to this your energetic temperament, which compels you to
disdain tears and complaints. When in the course of time and of events
we become friends, it shall be seen which of us knows better how to
torment the other. Only to think of it makes my hair stand on end. Have
I interpreted correctly your _but_? Rest assured that, notwithstanding
your resolutions, the threads of our lives are too closely intermingled
for us to fail to find each other some day or other. I am dying to see
and talk with you. It seems to me that I should be perfectly happy if I
knew that I should see you this evening.
By the way, you are wrong to suspect Mr. V. of undue curiosity. Even if
it were equal to yours, which is not possible, Mr. V. is a Cato, and
under no consideration would he break a seal. Therefore send him the
_schizzo_ under cover, and have no fear of any indiscretion on his part.
I should like to see you as you were writing, _Amigo de mi alma_. When
you are having your photograph taken for me, say those words to
yourself, instead of “prunes and prisms,” as ladies say when they wish
to give their mouth a pleasant expression.
Try and arrange it so that we may meet without any secrecy and as good
friends do. You will be distressed, no doubt, to learn that I am not at
all well and am horribly bored. Do come soon to Paris, dear _Mariquita_,
and make me fall in love with you. Then I shall be no longer lonely, and
in compensation I shall make you very unhappy by my whims. For some time
your writing has been very careless and your letters short. I am
convinced that you have no love for any one, and never will have any.
However, you understand well enough the theory of love.
Good-bye. You have my best wishes for your health, for your happiness,
that you may not marry, that you may come to Paris--in short, that we
may become good friends.