O why did you tell me about that cloak? Why didn't you buy it? Isn't it in _Julius Cæsar_ that Pompey blames--no not Pompey but a friend of Pompey's--well, Pompey's friend, I mean the friend of Pompey--blames somebody else who was his friend--that is who was the friend of Pompey's friend--because he (the friend of Pompey's friend) had not done something right off, but had come and asked him (Pompey's friend) whether he (the friend of Pompey's friend) ought to do it or no? There I fold my hands with some complacency: that's a piece of very good narration. I am getting into good form. These classical instances are always distracting. I was talking of the cloak. It's awfully dear. Are there no cheap and nasty imitations? Think of that--if, however, it were the opinion (ahem) of competent persons that the great cost of the mantle in question was no more than proportionate to its durability; if it were to be a joy for ever; if it would cover my declining years and survive me in anything like integrity for the comfort of my executors; if--I have the word--if the price indicates (as it seems) the quality of _perdurability_ in the fabric; if, in fact, it would not be extravagant, but only the leariest economy to lay out £5 .. 15 .. in a single mantle without seam and without price, and if--and if--it really fastens with an agrafe--I would BUY it. But not unless. If not a cheap imitation would be the move.--Ever yours, R. L. S. TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON The following is in answer to a set of numbered questions, of which the first three are of no general interest. _[Menton], Monday, January 19th, 1874._ ANSWERS to a series of questions. * * * * * 4. Nelitchka, or Nelitska, as you know already by this time, is my adorable kid's name. Her laugh does more good to one's health than a month at the seaside: as she said to-day herself, when asked whether she was a boy or a girl, after having denied both with gravity, she is an angel. 5. O no, her brain is not in a chaos; it is only the brains of those who hear her. It is all plain sailing for her. She wishes to refuse or deny anything, and there is the English "No fank you" ready to her hand; she wishes to admire anything, and there is the German "schön"; she wishes to sew (which she does with admirable seriousness and clumsiness), and there is the French "coudre"; she wishes to say she is ill, and there is the Russian "bulla"; she wishes to be down on any one, and there is the Italian "Berecchino"; she wishes to play at a railway train, and there is her own original word "Collie" (say the o with a sort of Gaelic twirl). And all these words are equally good. 7. I am called M. Stevenson by everybody except Nelitchka, who calls me M. Berecchino.