I had no idea you were so far on with your book, and heartily
congratulate you on being within sight of land.
It is excessively pleasant to me to get your letter, as it opens a
perspective of theatrical and other lounging evenings, and also of
articles in "Household Words." It will not be the first time that we
shall have got on well in Paris, and I hope it will not be by many a
time the last.
I purpose coming over, early in February (as soon, in fact, as I shall
have knocked out No. 5 of "Little D."), and therefore we can return in a
jovial manner together. As soon as I know my day of coming over, I will
write to you again, and (as the merchants--say Charley--would add)
"communicate same" to you.
The lodging, _en garcon_, shall be duly looked up, and I shall of course
make a point of finding it close here. There will be no difficulty in
that. I will have concluded the treaty before starting for London, and
will take it by the month, both because that is the cheapest way, and
because desirable places don't let for shorter terms.
I have been sitting to Scheffer to-day--conceive this, if you please,
with No. 5 upon my soul--four hours!! I am so addleheaded and bored,
that if you were here, I should propose an instantaneous rush to the
Trois Freres. Under existing circumstances I have no consolation.
I think THE portrait[23] is the most astounding thing ever beheld upon
this globe. It has been shrieked over by the united family as "Oh! the
very image!" I went down to the _entresol_ the moment I opened it, and
submitted it to the Plorn--then engaged, with a half-franc musket, in
capturing a Malakhoff of chairs. He looked at it very hard, and gave it
as his opinion that it was Misser Hegg. We suppose him to have
confounded the Colonel with Jollins. I met Madame Georges Sand the other
day at a dinner got up by Madame Viardot for that great purpose. The
human mind cannot conceive any one more astonishingly opposed to all my
preconceptions. If I had been shown her in a state of repose, and asked
what I thought her to be, I should have said: "The Queen's monthly
nurse." _Au reste_, she has nothing of the _bas bleu_ about her, and is
very quiet and agreeable.
The way in which mysterious Frenchmen call and want to embrace me,
suggests to any one who knows me intimately, such infamous lurking,
slinking, getting behind doors, evading, lying--so much mean resort to
craven flights, dastard subterfuges, and miserable poltroonery--on my
part, that I merely suggest the arrival of cards like this:
[Illustration: HW:
Horgues
homme de lettres
or
Drouse
membre de l'Institut
or
Cregibus Patalanternois
Ecole des Beaux arts
--every five minutes. Books also arrive with, on the flyleaf,
Jaubaud
Hommage a l'illustre romancier d'Angleterre