I dined Sunday with General Narvaez, who was entertaining in honour of his wife’s birthday. There were scarcely any but Spanish women present. I saw one who is trying to starve herself for love, and is gradually and quietly passing away. This mode of death must seem to you the height of cruelty. There was another, Mademoiselle ... whom General Serrano stationed there for his Catholic Majesty; but she is far from dead, and even appears to be in excellent health. There was also Madame Gonzalez Bravo, a sister of the actor Romea, and sister-in-law of the same Majesty, who has, it is said, an immense number of sisters-in-law. This one is extremely pretty and clever.
We parted the other day equally vexed the one with the other. We were both wrong, for it was simply the force of circumstances that was to blame. It would have been better not to meet for a long time. It is evident that we can not see each other without disagreeing. We both want the impossible: you, that I should be a statue; I, that you should not be one. Each new proof of the impossibility of that which in our hearts we have never doubted causes bitterness to us both. I regret all the distress I may have caused you. I am too ready to yield to my absurd quick temper. As well get into a passion because ice is cold.
I hope you will forgive me now. I am no longer angry, only very sorrowful. I should not feel so bad if we had not parted as we did. Farewell, since we can be friends only at a distance. When we have grown old, perhaps we shall meet again with pleasure. Meanwhile, in happiness or in distress, do not forget me. I asked you this, I don’t know how many years ago. We hardly ever thought then of quarrelling.
Again, good-bye, while I have the courage to say it.
It seems to me like a dream that I have seen you. We were together such a little time that I told you nothing of what I wished to say. You yourself appeared to be uncertain whether I was a reality. When shall we meet again? I am at present engaged in a most servile and tiresome business, that of canvassing for membership in the Academy of Inscriptions. Some of my experiences are ridiculous, and I am often tempted strongly to laugh at myself, a temptation which I repress, however, for fear of shocking the gravity of the Academicians. I have embarked upon this business--or, rather, others have pushed me into it--somewhat blindly. My chances are not bad, but the solicitation of votes is most repugnant to me, and the worst feature of the whole thing is that I must wait such an age for the result, certainly until the last of October, and perhaps longer.