Yes, but some visitors, some faces, and voices are missed.  And altogether I was very sad at leaving my Italy, oh, very sad!...

Tell me how you like ‘up in the villa’ life, and how long you shall bear it.

Paris!  I have not been out of the house, except when I came into it.  But to-day, Thursday, I mean to drive out a little with Robert.  You know I have a weakness for Paris, and a passion for Italy; which would operate thus, perhaps, that I could easily stay here when once here, if there was but a sun to stay with me.  We are in admiration, all of us, at everything, from cutlets to costumes.  On the latter point I shall give myself great airs over you barbarians presently—­no offence to Zerlinda—­and, to begin, pray draw your bonnets more over your faces.

I would rather send this bit than wait, as I did not write to you from Marseilles.

May God bless you!  If you knew how happy I think you for being in Italy—­if you knew.

I shiver with the cold.  I tie up three loves to send you from

Your truly affectionate
BA.

* * * * *

To Miss I. Blagden

Hotel Hyacinthe, St. Honore, Paris: 
Thursday [July 8, 1858].

My dearest dear Isa,—­We are here, having lost nothing—­neither a carpet bag nor a bit of our true love for you.  We arrived the evening before last, and this letter should have been written yesterday if I hadn’t been interrupted.  Such a pleasant journey we had, after the curse of the sea! (’Where there shall be no more sea’ beautifies the thought of heaven to me.  But Frederick Tennyson’s prophets shall compound for as many railroads as they please.)

In fact, we did admirably by land.  We were of unbridled extravagance, and slept both at Lyons and Dijon, and travelled by express trains besides, so that we were almost alone the whole way, and able to lie at full length and talk and read, and ‘Doit et Avoir’ did duty by me, I assure you—­to say nothing of ‘Galignanis’ and French newspapers.  I was nearly sorry to arrive, and Robert suggested the facility of ’travelling on for ever so.’  He (by help of nux) was in a heavenly state of mind, and never was the French people—­public manners, private customs, general bearing, hostelry, and cooking, more perfectly appreciated than by him and all of us.  Judge of the courtesy and liberality. One box had its lid opened, and when Robert disclaimed smuggling, ’Je vous crois, monsieur’ dismissed the others.  Then the passport was never looked at after a glance at Marseilles.  I am thinking of writing to the ‘Times,’ or should be if I could keep my temper.