of Ladislas Zamoyski, and after the treaty of Paris (1856) the English Government appointed him to a post in the War Office.  Major Szulczewski, who died on October 18, 1884, was an ardent patriot, highly esteemed not only by his countrymen, but also by all others who came in contact with him, numbering among his friends the late Lord Dudley Stuart and the late Earl of Harrowby.]

Address your letters, please, to Szulczewski.  I cannot yet come to Paris, but I am always considering what is to be done to return there.  Here in these apartments, which for any healthy man would be good, I cannot remain, although they are beautifully situated and not dear (four and a half guineas a week, inclusive of bed, coals, &c.); they are near Lord Stuart’s, [footnote:  Lord Dudley Cuotts Stuart, a staunch and generous friend of the Poles.] who has just left me.  This worthy gentleman came to inquire how I felt after last night’s concert.  Probably I shall take up my quarters with him, because he has much larger rooms, in which I can breathe more freely.  En tout cas—­inquire, please, whether there are not somewhere on the Boulevard, in the neighbourhood of the Rue de la Paix or Rue Royale, apartments to be had on the first etage with windows towards the south; or, for aught I care, in the Rue des Mathurin, but not in the Rue Godot or other gloomy, narrow streets; at any rate, there must be included a room for the servant.  Perhaps Franck’s old quarters, which were above mine, at the excellent Madame Etienne’s, in the Square No. 9 (Cite d’Orleans), are unoccupied; for I know from experience that I cannot keep on my old ones during the winter.  If there were only on the same story a room for the servant, I should go again and live with Madame Etienne, but I should not like to let my Daniel go away, as, should I at any time wish or be able to return to England, he will be acquainted with everything.

Why I bother you with all this I don’t know myself; but I must think of myself, and, therefore, I beg of you, assist me in this.  I have never cursed anyone, but now I am so weary of life that I am near cursing Lucrezia! [Footnote:  George Sand.  This allusion after what has been said in a previous chapter about her novel Lucrezia Floriani needs no further explanation.] But she suffers too, and suffers more because she grows daily older in wickedness.  What a pity about Soli! [Footnote:  I suppose Solange, Madame Clesinger, George Sand’s daughter.] Alas! everything is going wrong in this world.  Think only that Arago with the eagle on his breast now represents France!!!  Louis Blanc attracts here nobody’s attention.  The deputation of the national guard drove Caussidier out of the Hotel de la Sablonniere (Leicester Square) from the table d’hote with the exclamation:  “Vous n’etes pas francais!”

  Should you find apartments, let me know at once; but do not
  give up the old ones till then.—­Your