I was terribly cold on the journey. At Dijon I met the snow, of which I saw the last only at Lyons. Here a slight mistral is blowing, but the sun shines gloriously. They write me from Cannes that the weather is magnificent, although cold for that climate--that is to say, a May temperature. I was shockingly ill in the train from Paris to Marseilles, and all night I thought I should suffocate. This morning I am greatly relieved. It is a pleasure to see the sun once more, and to feel its genuine warmth. You have found nothing for me to give Sainte Eulalie, and I fancy that I may have forgotten to remind you of that important matter. No more handkerchiefs, no more boxes. I have been giving such things for twenty years. In an extreme case, I might return again to brooches; but if it were possible to select something newer, it would be desirable. I continue to rely on you to choose the books for the Misses Lagrénée. Think of all the responsibility you have taken on your shoulders! I have always found you worthy of my confidence. Your selection of books for young girls has always been exquisite. When I pass through Marseilles again, I will attend to your commissions, if you have any, as to the purchase of cloaks or eastern stuffs. There is a Jew here, very dishonest, but with an excellent stock of goods, whom I honour with my patronage. I have just seen a recent arrival from Cannes who tells me the roads are atrocious. I feel my flesh beginning to creep from to-night, and think of twenty-four hours, at least, on the road! If you go to Florence next year you must tell me in time. It is my dream to return there with you. I will be your guide in seeing the city. Good-bye. Let me hear from you soon, and tell me what people are saying in Paris. CLXXXVIII CANNES, _January 7, 1859_. I am settled here in some sort of fashion. The weather is cold but magnificent. From ten o’clock until four the sun is warm; but hardly has it touched the summit of the mountains of the Estérel, when there arises a keen wind from the Alps which cuts you in two. Nevertheless, I feel much better than when I was in Paris. I have had no paroxysms of pain, and the cough I brought away with me is entirely cured from being in the open air; only I eat nothing at all, and sleep but so-so. On account of my nervous temperament, I became the other day terribly irritated and was obliged to dismiss my servant, to turn him out on the spot. Persons of that class imagine themselves necessary to you and abuse your patience. I have found a fellow here to take care of my clothes, who is like a cat walking on ice with nut-shells on his feet. I should like to discover a treasure such as I have sometimes seen--some one who would understand my wishes without putting me to the necessity of speaking.