The Russians are arming vigorously, which causes general food for thought. A certain grand duchess Catherine has just made a visit to the Empress; the significance of this is either auspicious or otherwise. Russia is a powerful ally, who could swallow Germany alive, but who would also procure for us the enmity, and, perhaps, the hostility of England. We have lived for so long a life of sybaritism that we have forgotten the sentiments of our fathers. We must return to their philosophy of life. We danced in Paris while we fought in Germany, and this continued for more than twenty years! In the present age wars can not drag on so long, because revolutions interfere, and because they are too costly. This is why, if I were young, I should be a soldier. But let us have done with this hideous subject. The misfortune which is to come can not be avoided and the wisest plan is to think of it as little as possible; and it is for this reason that I wish so ardently to take a walk with you, far, far from the scene of war, where we shall think only of the leaves and the blooming flowers, and of other things no less agreeable. Whatever may happen, is not this course the most sensible? If you have read Boccaccio, you will have learned that after all crushing misfortunes one comes to that point. Is it not wiser to begin thus? Great truths and reasonable facts do not find ready access to your brain. I shall never forget your astonishment when I told you there were woods in the suburbs of Paris. I took dinner at the home of a Chinese, who offered me an opium pipe. I was suffering from suffocation; at the third puff I was cured. A Russian who tried the pipe after me was completely transformed in less than ten minutes; from a very homely man, he became a truly handsome one. This continued fully a quarter of an hour. Is it not singular, the effect produced by a few drops of poppy juice? Good-bye. Answer me quickly. CXCVI PARIS, _May 28, 1859_. You have a way of announcing bad news that is maddening to me. You take a great deal of pains in order, perhaps, to smooth them over; better to tell me all that you would have done, _if_ ... It is like Roland’s horse, who had every good quality, but who was dead. If he had not been dead, he would have run faster than the wind. I do not care at all for that kind of pleasantry, because, in the first place, you are suspicious of me; and, again, because it is exasperating enough to have you so far away, without being obliged to regret the hours I might have spent with you. The time of your return, probably, is not far distant. Meanwhile, keep me informed of your actions and your projects, for I can not imagine that you will not be up to all sorts of mad tricks.