PARIS, _February, 1843_.
It has happened often during my life to do reluctantly things which I
have been afterwards very glad to have done. I hope that you may have
the same experience. Suppose the contrary had occurred, would you not
have felt some impatience for having come alone? Would you not have
suffered some distress (let me believe you would) for having caused me
sorrow?
Do you now recall with pride that strange influence which you have twice
exerted on my thoughts and on my resolutions? The only mistake made has
been to feel a little uncertainty. Are you not astonished, as I am, with
that strange coincidence (I shall not say sympathy, for fear of
offending you) of our thoughts? Do you recollect that on a former
occasion we had an experience almost as miraculous? and more recently
still, beside a stove in the Spanish Museum, you read my thoughts as
quickly as they came into my mind? For a long time I have suspected
something of the diabolical in you, but I am reassured somewhat,
remembering that I have seen both your feet, and neither one is a
_cloven foot_. It may be, however, that you have concealed beneath those
little boots a tiny hoof. I beg you to relieve my suspense.
Good-bye. Here is the book of which I spoke.