You are charming, dear _Mariquita_, too charming even. I have just
received the _schizzo_, and I now possess both your portrait and your
confidence, a double happiness. You were in an agreeable mood the day
you wrote, for your letter was long and kind, but it has one fault, that
is, it is indefinite. Shall I see you, or not? That is the question. I
know well enough how it may be solved, but you do not want to come to a
decision. You are, as you will be all your life, vacillating between
your own temperament and the habits you acquired in the convent. That is
the cause of all the trouble.
I swear to you that if you will not permit me to call and see you, I
shall go to Madam D. and ask her to give me some news of you. In this
connection, Madam D. might give you a satisfactory proof of my
discretion, for I even resisted the desire which made my fingers tingle
to open the package containing the picture. Applaud me.
Why are you unwilling that I should see you on the promenade, for
example, or, better still, at the British Museum or the Ingerstein
Gallery? I have a friend with me who is exceedingly curious about the
large package which I untied while his back was turned, and also about
the change in my spirits due to its arrival. I have not told him a word
that approaches the truth, but I think he is on the scent.
Good-bye. I wished to tell you of the safe arrival of the picture, and
of the very great pleasure it has given me. Let us write frequently in
London, even if we are not to see each other there.