If you had been in Paris you would have seen something very beautiful which was presented to me. It is a brooch in the form of a fleur-de-lis shield, containing a miniature portrait of Marie Antoinette, painted in Vienna, probably, before her marriage, and given by her to the princess de Lamballe. There was once in the back of the brooch a lock of hair, but it has been removed. After a fine show of resistance to the temptation, I yielded, and sent it promptly to her Majesty, who is making a collection of objects which belonged to Marie Antoinette. This will be, assuredly, one of her prettiest souvenirs; besides which, it is said to be absolutely authentic, and was worn for a long time by Madame de Lamballe. These sad antiquities fill me with horror, but it is vain to dispute about tastes. Madame ---- is still making a great scandal, and openly. I am sorry that I am not at liberty to write you all that she says and does. It is asserted that in Italy are two other wives of ministers more extravagantly wild than she.... I think you might have been a little more polite, and borrowed my proofs from me. Nothing is more painful to an author than neglect of this sort. August 1st, a second article appeared, and you will be compelled to fortify yourself against three or four others. If you could invent some euphemism to explain to the reader the secret of Mentchikof’s influence with Peter the Great, it would be an immense favour to me. Read also, in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, M. Collin’s article on trades unions (it is by M. Libri), and a letter of M. d’Haussonville to prince Napoleon, which is highly calculated to spoil his taste for newspaper polemical articles. Sainte-Beuve continues quite ill. He is surrounded by numbers of women, like the sultan Saladin. You shall not persuade me that you are having at ---- any better weather than here--that is to say, continuous gusts of rain and wind. When are you coming back? I need you very much, to tell me what is going on, and to help me bear my misfortunes in patience--something very difficult to do. The other night, when it was almost impossible for me to breathe, I read Luther’s Table-Talk. This big man pleases me, with all his prejudices and his hatred of the devil. Good-bye, dear friend. CCC PARIS, _September 6, 1867_.