PARIS, _Monday, June 15, 1851_.
My mother is better, and will, I think, be entirely well again in a few
days. I was very anxious, and feared pneumonia. I appreciate the
interest you have shown in her health.
I went out yesterday for the first time in a week to see the Spanish
dancers, who are on exhibition at the Princess Mathilde’s. They
impressed me as mediocre. The dance at the Jardin Mabille has ruined the
popularity of the bolero. Moreover, those ladies wore such a quantity of
crinoline behind and such a lot of cotton in front that it is easy to
see civilisation is invading everything. I was amused especially in
watching a little girl of about twelve years, accompanied by an aged
duenna. They could not overcome their surprise to find themselves
outside of holy ground, and were both as ill at ease and boorish as
could be wished.
I have just received your cushion. You are, indeed, a skilled
needle-woman, an accomplishment of which I should never have suspected
you. Both the selection of colours and the embroidery are remarkably
beautiful. My mother admires it extremely. As for the design, the hint
which you were good enough to give me was sufficient to make me
understand its meaning. I do not know how to thank you.
Saint Evremont joins me here. I lost him, and have had to exert my
memory to its utmost ability in order to find him again. You must tell
me what you think of Père Canaye. I find that after him it is impossible
to read anything more of the nineteenth century.
Good-bye.