Wednesday evening.

CXLVIII.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT The 5th or the 6th February, 1870

(On the back of a letter from Edme Simonnet)

I don’t see you, you come to the Odeon and when they tell me that you are there, I hurry and don’t find you.  Do set a day then when you will come to eat a chop with me.  Your old exhausted troubadour who loves you.

CXLIX.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Paris, 15 February, 1870

My troubadour, we are two old rattle traps.  As for me, I have had a bad attack of bronchitis and I am just out of bed.  Now I am recovered but not yet out of my room.  I hope to resume my work at the Odeon in a couple of days.

Do get well, don’t go out, at least unless the thaw is not very bad.  My play is for the 22d. [Footnote:  This refers to L’Autre.] I hope very much to see you on that day.  And meanwhile, I kiss you and I love you,

G. Sand

Tuesday evening

CL.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Sunday evening, 20th February, 1870

I went out today for the first time, I am better without being well.  I am anxious at not having news about that reading of the fairy play.  Are you satisfied?  Did they understand?  L’Autre will take place on Thursday, or Friday at the latest.

Will your nephew and niece go to the gallery or the balcony seats?  Impossible to have a box.  If yes, a word and I will send these seats out of my allotment—­which, as usual, will not be grand.

Your old troubadour.

CLI.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Paris, February, 1870

It is for Friday.  Then I am disposing of the two seats that I intended for your niece.

If you have a moment free, and come to the Odeon that night, you will find me in the manager’s box, proscenium, ground floor.  I am heavy-hearted about all you tell me.  Here you are again in gloom, sorrow and chagrin.  Poor dear friend!  Let us continue to hope that you will save your patient, but you are ill too, and I am very anxious about you, I was quite overwhelmed by it this evening, when I got your note, and I have no more heart for anything.

A word when you can, to give me news.

G. Sand

CLII.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Paris, 2d March, 1870

Poor dear friend, your troubles distress me, you have too many blows in quick succession, and I am going away Saturday morning leaving you in the midst of all these sorrows!  Do you want to come to Nohant with me, for a change of air, even if only for two or three days?  I have a compartment, we should be alone and my carriage is waiting for me at Chateauroux.  You could be sad without constraint at our house, we also have mourning in the family.  A change of lodging, of faces, of habits, sometimes does physical good.  One does not forget one’s sorrow, but one forces one’s body to endure it.