I am coming to Paris for a week, with my friend Collins--son of the
English painter who painted our green lanes and our cottage children so
beautifully. Do not tell this to Le Vieux. Unless I have the ill fortune
to stumble against him in the street I shall not make my arrival known
to him.
I purpose leaving here on Sunday, the 11th, but I shall stay that night
at Boulogne to see two of my little boys who are at school there. We
shall come to Paris on Monday, the 12th, arriving there in the evening.
Now, _mon cher_, do you think you can, without inconvenience, engage me
for a week an apartment--cheerful, light, and wholesome--containing a
comfortable _salon et deux chambres a coucher_. I do not care whether it
is an hotel or not, but the reason why I do not write for an apartment
to the Hotel Brighton is, that there they expect one to dine at home (I
mean in the apartment) generally; whereas, as we are coming to Paris
expressly to be always looking about us, we want to dine wherever we
like every day. Consequently, what we want to find is a good apartment,
where we can have our breakfast but where we shall never dine.
Can you engage such accommodation for me? If you can, I shall feel very
much obliged to you. If the apartment should happen to contain a little
bed for a servant I might perhaps bring one, but I do not care about
that at all. I want it to be pleasant and gay, and to throw myself _en
garcon_ on the festive _diableries de Paris_.
Mrs. Dickens and her sister send their kindest regards to Madame Regnier
and you, in which I heartily join. All the children send their loves to
the two brave boys and the Normandy _bonnes_.
I shall hope for a short answer from you one day next week. My dear
Regnier,
Always faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]