PARIS, _Monday, September, 1844_.
We parted the other day equally vexed the one with the other. We were
both wrong, for it was simply the force of circumstances that was to
blame. It would have been better not to meet for a long time. It is
evident that we can not see each other without disagreeing. We both want
the impossible: you, that I should be a statue; I, that you should not
be one. Each new proof of the impossibility of that which in our hearts
we have never doubted causes bitterness to us both. I regret all the
distress I may have caused you. I am too ready to yield to my absurd
quick temper. As well get into a passion because ice is cold.
I hope you will forgive me now. I am no longer angry, only very
sorrowful. I should not feel so bad if we had not parted as we did.
Farewell, since we can be friends only at a distance. When we have grown
old, perhaps we shall meet again with pleasure. Meanwhile, in happiness
or in distress, do not forget me. I asked you this, I don’t know how
many years ago. We hardly ever thought then of quarrelling.
Again, good-bye, while I have the courage to say it.