I am thinking of making a visit to M. Fould, at Tarbes, so that I may profit by these last beautiful days; after that I shall return to Paris, where I shall hope to find you settled. The sea air is doing me good. My breathing is better, but I sleep badly. ‘Tis true, I am immediately on the sea-shore, where the slightest wind makes a terrible uproar. As in all imperial residences, the time is spent here in doing nothing, while waiting for something to happen. I work a little; I sketch from my window, and walk a great deal. There are few people stopping at the Eugénie Villa, and they are people whom I like well enough. While the days here have twenty-four hours, as they have in Paris, I find that the time passes without much difficulty.... We took a charming walk yesterday along the Pyrenees, near enough to see the mountains in all their glory, yet not near enough to suffer from the incessant inconvenience of climbing and descending them. We lost our way, and met no one who understood our beautiful French language. This always happens as soon as one passes beyond the outskirts of Bayonne. The Prince Imperial yesterday gave a dinner to a flock of children. The emperor himself made champagne for them out of seltzer-water, which had the same effect as if they had drunk real wine. In a quarter of an hour they were all tipsy, and my ears still ache from the racket they made. Good-bye, dear friend. I have had the temerity to promise to translate for his Majesty a Spanish memoir on the site of Munda, and I have just made the discovery that it is terribly difficult to translate. You may write here until the 23d or 24th. Send your letters after that to M. Fould, at Tarbes. Good-bye. CCXLVI PARIS, _November 2, 1861_. My eyes are so bad that I did not recognise you at once the other day. Why do you come into my quarters without forewarning me? The person who was with me asked who the lady was with such beautiful eyes. I spend all my time working like a negro slave for my master, whom I shall go to see in a week. The prospect of eight days in knee-breeches is somewhat terrifying. I should prefer to spend them out in the sunshine, and I begin to long for that time. On the other hand, the session with which we are threatened is maddening to me. I can not understand why Government business is not transacted in summer.... I have for you a book which is not altogether stupid. My memory is failing, and I have had a volume bound, when I already had a copy. You see what you will gain by it. I have recovered almost entirely from my stiff neck, but for several nights I have been up so late that I am extremely nervous and exhausted. When we meet we will converse on metaphysics. ‘Tis a subject for which I cherish a great fondness because it is inexhaustible. Good-bye, dear friend. CCXLVII COMPIÉGNE, _November 17, 1861_.