It is possible that I was unjust towards you; if so, I ask your pardon. At the same time, you do not try to put yourself in my place, and because you do not look at things from my standpoint you insist that I take your point of view, which is impossible. You do not, perhaps, give me all the credit I deserve for my efforts to be like you. I do not understand your present attitude towards me. Not only so, but speaking literally, I have seen for a long time that you love me better at a distance than when I am with you. Let us talk no more of this now. I wish only to say that I do not censure you, and that I am not offended with you, and that if at times I am depressed, you must not suppose that I am angry. You have made me a promise, which you may be sure I shall not forget, and yet I do not know if I shall remind you of it. There is nothing I dislike so much as quarrels, but I should have to quarrel with you in order to jostle your memory. Nothing that pains you would give me pleasure; therefore I will agree to the programme which you have arranged. Indeed, that was a happy inspiration of ours the other day. What a snow, and what a rain! What a pity it would have been to put me off until to-day! You are always afraid to follow your first impulses; do you not know that they are the only ones which are worth anything, and which always succeed? I have an idea that the devil is constitutionally slow, and decides always on the longest way around. To-night I have been to the Italian Opera, where, in spite of the constant applause given my enemy, Madame Viardot, I enjoyed myself. I have received from Spain the books for which I have been waiting in order to continue my work, so that temporarily I am in high spirits. I wish I knew that you were thinking of me, and especially that we were thinking together. Good-bye. I am charmed that you like the pins. I was afraid you might disdain them; but, despite the pleasure it would give me to see you wear them, do not wear the blue shawl next time. You are right in saying that it is too showy. L PARIS, _Monday night, February, 1843_.