GENEVA, January, 1834.
Very dear sovereign, sacred Majesty, sublime queen of Paulowska and
circumjacent regions, autocrat of hearts, rose of Occident, star of the
North, etc., etc., etc., fairy of _tiyeuilles_.[1]
Your Grace wished for my coffee-pot, and I entreat your Serene Highness
to do me the honour to accept one that is prettier and more complete;
and then to tell me, to fling me from your eminent throne a word full
of happiness, amber, and flowers, to let me know if I am to be at Your
sublime door in an hour, with a carriage, to go to Coppet.
I lay my homage at the feet of your Majesty, and entreat you to believe
in the honesty of your humble moujik, HONORESKI.
[Footnote 1: _Bromener_ and _tiyeuilles_ (_tilleuls_ lindens), make fun
of her pronunciation.--TR.]
GENEVA, January, 1834.
Never did an invalid less merit that name. He is ready to go to walk,
to fetch his proofs, and when his business is finished, which will be
in about a quarter of an hour, he will go and propose to Madame _la
doctrice_ to profit by this beautiful day to take an air-bath on the
Crêt of Geneva, along the iron railings; unless the laziness of the
Hanski household concurs with that of the poor literary moujik who lays
at your feet, madame, his strings of imaginary pearls, the treasure of
his heroes, his fanciful Alhambra, where he has carved, everywhere, not
the sacred name of God, but a human name that is sacred in other ways.
But all this immense property may not be worth, in reality, the four
games won yesterday.
GENEVA, January, 1834. I have slept like a dormouse, I feel like a
charm, I love you like a madcap, I hope that you are well, and I send
you a thousand tendernesses.
GENEVA, January, 1834.
If I must come this evening, and dress myself because you have your
_charaders_, permit me to come a little earlier. There is a dinner
here; they are singing and making such a noise while I write that it is
enough to drive the devil away. _Ecco._ I can calculate. Wednesday I
shall be _encandollé_ [dinner with M. de Candolle]. Thursday is taken.
To-morrow I work without intermission, for I shall have proofs. So, out
of five days, when one has but one in prospect, it is no flattery to
add a few hours. Yes? Very good.