"And now, my dear Laurent, console yourself as best you can for not seeing me for two days. It will not be difficult for you: you know many bright people, and you have a footing in the best society. For my part, I am only an old sermonizer who is very fond of you, who implores you not to go to bed late every night, and who advises you to carry nothing to excess or abuse. You have no right to do it: genius imposes obligations. "Your comrade, "THÉRÈSE JACQUES." TO MADEMOISELLE JACQUES MY DEAR THÉRÈSE: "I start in two hours for the country, with the Comte de S---- and Prince D----. There will be youth and beauty in the party, so I am assured. I promise and swear to you to do nothing foolish and to drink no champagne--without reproaching myself bitterly therefor! What can you expect? I should certainly have preferred to lounge in your great studio, and talk nonsense in your little lilac salon; but since you are in retirement with your thirty-six provincial cousins, you will certainly not notice my absence the day after to-morrow; you will have the delicious music of the Anglo-American accent throughout the evening. Ah! so the excellent Monsieur Palmer's name is Dick? I thought that Dick was the familiar diminutive of Richard! To be sure, in the matter of languages, French is the only one I can claim to know. "As for the portrait, let us say no more about it. You are a thousand times too motherly, my dear Thérèse, to think of my interests to the detriment of your own. Although you have a fine clientèle, I know that your generosity does not permit you to save money, and that a few bank-notes will be much more suitably placed in your hands than in mine. You will employ them in making others happy, and I should toss them on a card-table, as you say. "Moreover, I have never been less in the mood for painting. One needs for that two things which you have, reflection and inspiration; I shall never have the first, and I _have had_ the second. So I am disgusted with it, as with an old witch who has exhausted me by galloping me across fields on the skinny back of her horse Apocalypse. I see clearly enough what I lack; with all respect to your good sense, I have not yet lived hard enough, and I am going away for three days or a week with Madame Reality, in the guise of divers nymphs of the Opéra _corps de ballet_. I hope, on my return, to be a most accomplished, that is to say, a most blasé and most reasonable man of the world. "Your friend, "LAURENT." I Thérèse understood perfectly, at first sight, the spleen and jealousy which dictated this letter. "And yet," she said to herself, "he is not in love with me. Oh! no; he certainly will never be in love with any one, with me least of all."