You were charming. You told me nothing I did not know in saying that you
returned to me what I had given you; but to hear you say this is a joy
to me, for it proves that you did not mean the cruel things you said on
one of our ill-omened days. I have forgotten them all to-day. Will you
not, also, forget my anger and my rudeness?
You ask whether I believe in the existence of the soul. Not altogether.
Nevertheless, when I reflect upon certain things, I find an argument in
favour of that hypothesis. It is this: How can two animate substances
give and receive a sensation by a union which would be insipid but for
the sentiment attached to it? This is an extremely pedantic way of
saying that when two lovers kiss each other the sensation they receive
is altogether different from that felt in kissing the softest of satin.
But the argument has its value. We will discuss metaphysics, if you
like, next time I see you. It is a subject which I find very
interesting, because it can never be exhausted. You will write to me,
will you not, before Monday to say where we shall meet? We must be there
on the hour, not on the half hour. Be sure and remember it;
consequently, we must start on the half hour. This is clear, is it not?
It is half past four, and I must rise before ten o’clock.
LXII
_Friday, March 29, 1843._
I divine, by one of those intuitions of the mind’s eye, that we shall
have fine weather for several days, but it will be followed by a long
siege of bad weather. On the other hand, our last walk, which was almost
a failure, we should consider as not having taken place. The bears alone
are the better for it. I envy them the interest you take in their
welfare, and I am thinking of having me a costume made which will give
me some of their charms. Hitherto, we have always walked from the east
towards the south, and it might be a good idea to try the opposite
direction. First we should find our starting-point, and the muddy stream
that flows near it, and we will end our walk where we usually begin it.
It is devilish hard that just now I am uncommonly busy; however, if
Saturday, at three o’clock, would be convenient, we could go on our
voyage of discovery until half past five; if not, we shall be obliged to
postpone it until Monday, which is a long time to wait.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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