“DEAR FRIEND,--All that the most tender delicate love can give is mine. My exquisite sylph, my Ariel, loves me more than ever and her mother says that, had she read of love like mine, she could not have believed it. “I am shut up in the Institute _for the last time_, for the prize _shall_ be mine this year, our happiness hangs on it. Every other day Madame Moke sends her maid with messages. Can you credit it, Humbert? This angel, with the finest talent in Europe, is mine! I hear that M. de Noailles, in whom her mother believes greatly, has pleaded my cause, despite my want of money. If only you could hear my Camille _thinking aloud_ in the divine works of Beethoven and Weber, you would lose your head as I do.” “_23rd August 1830._ “I have gained the Prix de Rome. It was awarded unanimously--a thing that has never been known before. What a joy it is to be successful when it gives pleasure to those one adores! “My sweet Ariel was dying of anxiety when I took her the news, her dainty wings were all ruffled until I smoothed them with a word. Even her mother, who does not look too favourably on our love, was touched to tears. “On the 1st November there is to be a concert at the Théâtre Italien. The new conductor, Girard, whom I know well, has asked me to write him an overture for it. I am going to take Shakespeare’s _Tempest_; it will be quite a new style of thing. “My great concert with the _Symphonie Fantastique_ is to be on the 14th November, but I must have a _theatrical_ success; Camilla’s parents insist upon that as a condition of our marriage. I hope I shall succeed. “I do not want to go to Italy. I shall go and ask the King to let me off. It is a ridiculous journey for me to take, and I might just as well be allowed my scholarship in Paris. “As soon as I have collected the money you so kindly lent me, you shall have it. Good-bye, good-bye. I have just come from Madame Moke’s, from touching the hand of my adored Camille, that is why mine trembles and my writing is so bad. Yet to-day she has not played me either Beethoven or Weber. “_P.S._--That wretched Smithson girl is still here. I have not seen her.” _To_ HUMBERT FERRAND. “_October 1830._--You will be glad to hear that I am to be heard at the Opera. All thanks to Camille! In her slender form, witching grace, and musical genius I found Ariel personified. I have planned a tremendous overture, which I have submitted to the director. Ariel! Ariel! Camille! I bless, I adore, I love thee more than poor language can express. Give me a hundred musicians, a hundred and fifty voices, then can I tell thee all! * * * * *