_August 10, 1846._
_On board a steamship, whose name I
do not know._
I went to the mountains of Ardèche in search of a remote spot where
there were neither electors nor candidates, but I found instead such
swarms of fleas and of flies that I am in doubt whether elections are
not preferable. Before leaving Lyons I received a letter from you which
made me very happy, for I was really somewhat uneasy. Although I ought
by now to be accustomed to your neglect of me, I can not help thinking,
when I do not hear from you, that something extraordinary has happened
to you. What would be truly extraordinary would be that you would
condescend to think of me as often as I think of you.
I regret to learn that you left for D. much later than you had expected,
and that, in consequence, your return will be delayed. I do not doubt
that you will enjoy yourself very much at D.; but if some thought of our
walks should come to you while the pleasures that you love so well are
at their height, you would be doing a meritorious act by hastening your
return. I made a tremendous hit last night with my rustic companions by
telling them ghost stories so gruesome that their hair stood on end. The
moon shone magnificently, lighting up the regular features and sparkling
black eyes of the young girls, without showing off their dirty stockings
and the grease on their hands. I fell asleep feeling very proud of my
success with an audience perfectly new to me. The next day, when I saw
my Ardèchoises in the sunlight, with their villainous hands and feet, I
almost regretted my eloquence of the preceding night.
This infernal boat causes my pen to skip up and down in the most
ridiculous fashion. One would have need of a special system of education
to learn to write on a dancing table. I am too sleepy and tired to
write another word, so I will say good-night. Write to me the day you
arrive in Paris, and the following day we must see our woods again. I
shall be in Paris the 18th at the latest; more probably I shall return
the 15th.
Again good-night.