G. Sand

CCXX.  TO GEORGE SAND Croisset

Here I am, back again here, dear master, and not very happy; my mother worries me.  Her decline increases from day to day, and almost from hour to hour.  She wanted me to come home although the painters have not finished their work, and we are very inconveniently housed.  At the end of next week, she will have a companion who will relieve me in this foolish business of housekeeping.

As for me, I have quite decided not to make the presses groan for many years, solely not to have “business” to look after, to avoid all connection with publishers, editors and papers, and above all not to hear of money.

My incapacity, in that direction, has developed to frightful proportions.  Why should the sight of a bill put me in a rage?  It verges on madness.  Aisse has not made money.  Dernieres Chansons has almost gotten me into a lawsuit.  The story of la Fontaine is not ended.  I am tired, profoundly tired, of everything.

If only I do not make a failure also of Saint-Antoine.  I am going to start working on it again in a week, when I have finished with Kant and Hegel.  These two great men are helping to stupefy me, and when I leave them I fall with eagerness upon my old and thrice great Spinoza.  What genius, how fine a work the Ethics is!

CCXXI.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, at Croissset 9 April, 1872

I am with you all day and all night, and at every instant, my poor dear friend.  I am thinking of all the sorrow that you are in the midst of.  I would like to be near you.  The misfortune of being tied here distresses me.  I would like a word so as to know if you have the courage that you need.  The end of that noble and dear life has been sad and long; for from the day that she became feeble, she declined and you could not distract her and console her.  Now, alas! the incessant and cruel task is ended, as the things of this world end, anguish after struggle!  What a bitter achievement of rest! and you are going to miss this anxiety, I am sure of that.  I know the sort of dismay that follows the combat with death.

In short, my poor child, I can only open a maternal heart to you which will replace nothing, but which is suffering with yours, and very keenly in each one of your troubles.

G. Sand

CCXXII.  TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Nohant, 14 April, 1872

My daughter-in-law has been staying several days with our friends, at Nimes, to stop a bad case of whooping-cough that Gabrielle was suffering with, to separate her from Aurore, from fear of contagion, and to recuperate, for she has not been well for some time.  As for me, I am well again.  That little illness and this departure suddenly resolved upon and accomplished, have upset my plans somewhat.  I had to look after