We were guided to the place by a singular man, who has made a large
fortune smuggling. He is the king of these mountains, and everybody is
subject to his commands. Nothing could have been finer than to see the
way he galloped among the rocks beside our column, which had great
difficulty in following the beaten paths. He dashed over every obstacle,
calling to his men in Basque, in French, and in Spanish, and never once
making a false step. The empress had charged him to watch over the
prince imperial, whom he made pass, him and his pony, over the most
impossible routes that you may imagine, and watching over him as
carefully as if he had been a bale of contraband goods. We rested for an
hour in his home at San, where we were received by his daughters, who
are well-bred persons, stylishly dressed, not in the least provincial,
and differing from Parisians only in their pronunciation of the _r_,
which for the Basques is always _r-r-r-h_.
We are expecting the armoured fleet; but the sea is so rough, that if it
came we could not communicate with it. There are not many people at
Biarritz, some startling costumes, and few pretty faces. Nothing could
be uglier than the bathers with their black costumes and caps of
oil-cloth.
I have been presented to the duc de Leuchtenberg, who is quite friendly.
I discovered that he read Schopenhauer, believed in positive philosophy,
and had a leaning towards socialism.
I expect to be in Paris early in October. Shall you not be there? I
should be glad to see you before I go into winter quarters. I am growing
scandalously stout, and my breathing is much better than in Paris.
Good-bye, dear friend. I have written a droll little thing, which may
amuse you, if you should condescend to listen.
CCXCII
PARIS, _October 5, 1866_.
We are to be, then, like Castor and Pollux, who can never appear upon
the same horizon! I returned several days ago. I have made a trip to the
post-office, and return to pack my trunk for departure. I am obliged to
go, for the first touch of frost is very disagreeable to feel, and I
have begun to cough and strangle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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