Confess, then, that it is scarcely flattering to my self-esteem that now, after an acquaintance of six years, you should treat me thus. Nevertheless, as I have no means of overcoming your resolutions, it shall be as you wish in this case, but I think it is rather silly not to see each other. I beg your pardon for using this word which is neither polite nor friendly, but which, in my opinion at least, is unfortunately true. I did not in any way ridicule you the other evening; on the contrary, I thought you extremely self-possessed. As for the antique seal, you shall see an impression from it on this letter, and it is subject to your orders, when you have told me where I shall give it to you--no, how you wish it sent to you. Let us not offend the eternal fitness of things. I ask nothing from you in exchange, for the reason that everything I have asked you have refused me. If you consider it wrong to see me, is it not wrong, also, to write to me? As I am not very proficient in your catechism, there is some confusion in my mind on this point. I speak too harshly, perhaps, but you have wounded my feelings, and when I am unhappy I can not escape from it, as you can, by devouring cakes. In truth, that is quite worthy of Cerberus. XXVII PARIS, _Saturday, November, 1842_. _Das Lied des Claerchens gefällt mir zu gar; aber warum haben Sie nicht das Ende geschrieben?_ The interest which you manifest in that Etruscan stone is truly delightful to see! How many cakes do you think it is worth? You have never even asked about the inscription it bears. It is a man turning a ewer. I should say an amphora, which is a Greek word and more high-sounding. In former times, perhaps, the seal belonged to a potter; there is, indeed, a mythological allusion which I might explain to you if I would. As for the other seal, it has a strange history. I found it in the chimney-place, as I was poking the fire, in the rue d’Alger; it is a very large, heavy bronze ring, and the characters on it are mystical. It is supposed to have been used by a magician, or even by the gnostics. You have noticed on it a small man, a sun, a moon, etc. Is it not a curious thing to find in the ashes in the rue d’Alger? Who knows if it is not to the mysterious power of this ring that I owe your song of _Claire_? I am really ill, but that is no reason why I should not go out. If, for instance, you wished to receive the Etruscan ring from my own hand, I would give it to you with the greatest pleasure; while it would be conspicuous and cause gossip if I should send it in a letter by your bearer. But I do not want to ask anything more from you, for you become more despotic every day, and you have acquired the most odious subtleties of coquetry. It appears that you do not appreciate eyes without any white, and that you admire blue-white eyes. You take good care, also, to remind me of your own eyes, which I remember quite well, although I have seen them so seldom.