PARIS, _Monday evening, January 20, 1858_.
It is a century since I saw you. ‘Tis true that many things have
happened in the interval. I am consumed with the wish to know what you
think of it all. My cold and influenza are somewhat improved, and the
credit of my cure I attribute to our last walk. It is not unlike the
lance of Achilles.
Have you read _Doctor Antonio_? It is an English novel which has
achieved no little success among English fashionable society, and which
I read while at Cannes. It is the work of M. Orsini. There will be, no
doubt, a new edition in London, and you must read it. To tell the truth,
it is not very clever.
Write to me soon, I pray you, for I need to see you to make me forget
all the miseries of this world.