PARIS, _January 21, 1843_.
You are very kind, and I thank you for your first letter, which has
given me more pleasure than the second, for the latter has a flavour of
second impulses. It is not bad, however. But you must write more legible
German. I am sadly in need of the commentaries which you offer
me--verbal ones, of course, for they are the best kind. At first I read
_heilige Empfindung_, then afterwards I thought it should read _selige_.
But there are two meanings. Does it mean a sensation of happiness, or
sentiment that is dead, past? If I had seen you writing, I should have
guessed, probably, from your expression what you intended to say. That
was double coquetry on your part, coquetry in writing, coquetry of
ambiguity.
Alas! you overrate my knowledge in matters of dress. I have, however,
very positive ideas on that subject. I will submit them to you, if you
like; but I do not understand most of the beautiful things that should
be admired, unless they are explained to me. If you will point them out
to me, I shall understand immediately, I assure you. But when, and
where? These two questions engage my attention quite as much as your why
and wherefore.
Do you not look back longingly to the beautiful warm days of the spring?
No danger then of wetting those wonderful little boots! If you will tell
me that you have remembered them, and that you still think of them, you
will give me renewed patience; but you must do something more than
think; you must resolve. I have no desire to recall your promises, for I
hope you will add to your good faith by fulfilling them graciously, and
not keep them waiting too long. I was so utterly overcome with dismay by
that storm, and by its consequences, that I have become entirely sugared
over with suavity and self-sacrifice. I have now sufficient confidence
in you to believe that you will not take advantage of it to become
tyrannical. You have, I regret to say, strong leanings in that
direction. That was formerly a fault of mine--tyranny, I mean--but I
flatter myself I have overcome it. Good-bye, then, dearest! Think of me
sometimes.