I am thinking of starting next week, and as I am obliged to stop on the way to examine some monuments, I shall not reach Paris in time for the Imperial Assembly, which no doubt will lose much of its interest on account of my absence. So far as I can now tell, I shall arrive the 3d or 4th of March, and shall hope to find you in good health. I shall welcome you once more with great joy, so you may expect it. Write to me at Marseilles, to be called for. It is probable that I shall go to Nice for a day or two, to form an opinion of an annexation, and then return to pack my trunks. You have not sent me your account, which I fear is a formidable one. Whatever the material of the clasps, apparently they are not cheap. I hope, however, to bring back money enough to pay the bill without the necessity of selling my books. By the way, have you not my copy of the _Voyage en Asie_, by M. de Gobineau? I looked for it here in vain the other day. If you have it, keep it for me. I took my friends, day before yesterday, to the _pont de Gardonne_. It is a natural bridge uniting some of the rocks on a point of the Estérel. Through a small doorway you enter a grotto, from which you emerge by another door which opens directly on the sea. On this day the sea was wild and angry, and the grotto seemed to be a boiling caldron. The sailors had not dared to venture within, and we had to content ourselves with going around the abyss. It was wonderfully beautiful with its color and movement. Good-bye. Keep well, and do not go out too much at night. CCXI PARIS, _Sunday night_, _March 12, 1860_. ... I find your Paris atmosphere extremely heavy, and I have a continual headache. I have as yet seen no one, and dare not go out at night. It seems to me extraordinary to make calls at ten o’clock at night. No word about the book of my friend, M. de Gobineau; certainly it must hang heavy on your conscience. Suggest a novel for me to read; I am in deep need of one. While in Cannes I read a novel by Bulwer, _What will He do with It?_ which seemed to me senile to the last degree. At the same time, it contains several pretty situations and an excellent sermon. As for the hero and heroine, they surpass in silliness all that is permissible by custom. A book which has amused me uncommonly is the work of M. de Bunsen on the origin of Christianity, and about everything else in the universe, to speak more exactly. It is called, however, _Christianity and Mankind_, and is only seven volumes of from seven to eight hundred pages each. M. de Bunsen calls himself an orthodox Christian; but at the same time he treats the Old and New Testaments with contempt.... I learned yesterday, that at one of the most recent masked balls a woman had the courage to appear in a costume of 1806 without any crinoline, and produced a tremendous sensation. CCXII PARIS, _March 4, 1860_.