As for me, I am better.  I have read prodigiously.  I have overworked, but now I am almost on my feet again.  The mass of gloom that I have in the depths of my heart is a little larger, that is all.  But, in a little while, I hope that it will not be noticed.  I spend my days in the library of the Institute.  The Arsenal library lends me books that I read in the evening, and I begin again the next day.  I shall return home to Croisset the first of May.  But I shall see you before then.  Everything will get right again with the sun.

The lovely lady in question made to me, for you, the most proper excuses, asserting to me that “she never had any intention of insulting genius.”

Certainly, I shall be glad to meet M. Favre; since he is a friend of yours I shall like him.

CLXI.  TO GEORGE SAND Tuesday morning

Dear master,

It is not staying in Paris that wears me out, but the series of misfortunes that I have had during the last eight months!  I am not working too much, for what would become of me without work?  However, it is very hard for me to be reasonable.  I am overwhelmed by a black melancholy, which returns a propos of everything and nothing, many times a day.  Then, it passes and it begins again.  Perhaps it is because it is too long since I have written anything.  Nervous reservoirs are exhausted.  As soon as I am at Croisset, I shall begin the article about my poor Bouilhet, a painful and sad task which I am in a hurry to finish, so as to set to work at Saint-Antoine.  As that is an extravagant subject, I hope it will divert me.

I have seen your physician, M. Favre, who seemed to me very strange and a little mad, between ourselves.  He ought to like me for I let him talk all the time.  There are high lights in his talk, things which sparkle for a moment, then one sees not a ray.

CLXII.  TO GEORGE SAND Paris, Thursday

M. X.——­sent me news of you on Saturday:  so now I know that everything is going well with you, and that you have no more uneasiness, dear master.  But you, personally, how are you?  The two weeks are almost up, and I do not see you coming.

My mood continues not to be sportive.  I am still given up to abominable readings, but it is time that I stopped for I am beginning to be disgusted with my subject.

Are you reading Taine’s powerful book?  I have gobbled it down, the first volume with infinite pleasure.  In fifty years perhaps that will be the philosophy that will be taught in the colleges.

And the preface to the Idees de M. Aubray?

How I long to see you and to jabber with you!

CLXIII.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Nohant, 16 April, 1870

What ought I to say to Levy so that he will take the first steps?  Tell me again how things are, for my memory is poor.  You had sold him one volume for ten thousand;—­there are two, he himself told me that that would be twenty thousand.  What has he paid you up to now?  What words did you exchange at the time of this payment?