_Tuesday night, December, 1842._
It is no longer a question of Jean-Paul; it is a question of French, and
of the French of the period of Louis XV. Fine reasoning that, founded
entirely on selfishness. There are certain people who buy a piece of
furniture the colour of which pleases them; then, because they are
afraid of spoiling it, they hide the article under a linen cover, which
is never removed until the furniture is worn out.
In all that you say and do you substitute invariably a conventional for
a genuine sentiment. This is, perhaps, etiquette. The question is to
know what it means to you, in comparison with something else with which,
in my opinion, it would be silly and ridiculous to compare it.
You know that while I have very little sympathy for false reasoning, I
respect convictions, even those that seem to me the most absurd. You
have a great many ridiculous notions (pardon the word) of which I should
hesitate to deprive you, since you are so fond of them and have no
others to take their place. But we are dreaming. Is it not the realities
of life that awaken us invariably from our dreams? Should we still try
to close the crevice through which we see fairy-land?
What is it you fear? In your letter to-day, among a lot of harsh words
and gloomy, pessimistic thoughts, you say something which is true: “I
think I never loved you so much as I did yesterday.” You might have
added, “I love you less to-day.” I am sure that if you felt to-day as
you did yesterday, you would be full of remorse, as I predicted. Yet you
seem scarcely touched by it. My remorse is of a very different quality.
I repent frequently of sticking too closely to my occupation of being a
statue. You opened your heart to me yesterday; I should like to have
given you the same confidence, but you did not wish it. The linen cover
still conceals the furniture! This is a subject upon which you compel me
to scold you sharply. Yet, never did I feel less in the mood for
scolding before receiving your letter. After all, I am like you:
pleasant memories drive out the disagreeable ones.
By the way, how affectionate you are! You are reserving a surprise for
my departure. You can guess how impatient I am. Last night, while
returning from dinner, I discovered that I knew by heart the speech of
_Tecmessa_ which you had admired; and as I was in a thoughtful mood I
translated it into verse--English verse, of course, for I detest French
verse. I intended giving it to you, but I have changed my mind. Besides,
I found a horrible fault of quantity in the word _Ajax_. It must be
_Ajax_, must it not?
When shall I see you, to tell you what you never tell me? You see that
we rule the weather. It clears for our benefit. Between two storms we
have always one halcyon day. Tell me, please, that it may be two days,
for I am tied down to work now.