PARIS, _July 9, 1843_.
You are right to forget quarrels, if you can. As you say, very sensibly,
the closer you examine them the more important they grow. It is best to
dream as long as possible, and as we can always repeat the same dream,
it becomes almost a reality. I am feeling better since yesterday, and
slept all last night, which I had not been able to do for a long time. I
believe, too, that my spirits have been lighter ever since I let off
steam the other day.
It is a pity we can not meet the day after having a quarrel, for I am
sure we should be in a perfectly amiable frame of mind. You promised to
appoint a day, but it has not occurred to you to do so, or else, what
would be even more unkind, you thought it would be an indecorous thing
to do. It is this constant preoccupation of yours which is so often a
cause of disagreement between us. As the hour of our separation draws
near, I become more discontented with myself, and the result is I behave
as if I were discontented with you. I might have said that you hold
yourself too much in check in order to please me. I catch myself
incessantly flying into a rage against this restraint, which, even in
its most agreeable aspect, conceals an underlying basis of sadness. But
dream, therein lies wisdom. When? That is the whole question.
You ought to translate for me a German book which gets on my nerves.
Nothing is more irritating than a German professor who thinks he has
discovered an idea. The title is alluring. It is: _das
Provocations-verfahren der Römer_.