Letters to an Unknown. Prosper Merimee

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СКАЧАТЬ began our correspondence by telling jokes, then we did what? I shall not remind you. And now we are becoming erudite. There is a Latin proverb which eulogises the happy medium. When I began to write I intended to say all sorts of severe things, and it is to Greek that you owe the absolute sweetness of my letter. It is not that I bear you less ill-will for your persistent insincerity, only, while writing, I have lost some of my bad humour. If you are not in Italy, do not regret it. The weather there is frightful, with rain, cold, etc. Nothing is more hideous than a land which is not accustomed to these two plagues. Good-bye. I should be very glad to know where you are. Ἑῥῥωσο (grow strong).

      This is the end of a Greek letter.

      P.S.—Opening a book, I have found these two little flowers, which I plucked at Thermopylæ, upon the hilltop where Leonidas died. It is a relic, as you see.

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       Thursday, October, 1842.

      Should you like to hear an Italian opera with me to-night? I have a box on Thursdays with my cousin and his wife. They are now travelling, and I have the box to myself. You should come accompanied by your brother, or by one of your relatives who does not know me. You would please me greatly by coming. Send me a line before six o’clock, and I will let you know the number of the box. I think La Cenerentola will be given. Invent some pretty fiction, which you must tell me in advance, to explain my presence; but manage it so that I may speak with you there.

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       Friday morning, October, 1842.

      I thank you very much for having come yesterday. You gave me a great deal of pleasure. I hope your brother saw nothing extraordinary in our meeting. I have an Etruscan seal for you; I can not endure the one you are using. I will give you the other the next time I see you. I enclose the page of Greek which I prepared for you. When you have a relapse into an erudite mood it may be of use.

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       Tuesday night, October, 1842.

      I have lost nothing, as it seems, by waiting for your letter. It is studiously perverse; but believe me, perverseness is not becoming to you. Abandon this style, and resume your customary coquetry, which suits you marvellously.

      It would be nothing short of cruelty on my part to wish to see you, since this would cause you to be so ill that it would require an enormous quantity of cakes to cure you. I can not imagine where you have conceived the idea that I have friends in the four corners of the globe. You know perfectly well that I have only one or two friends in Madrid. Believe me, I am very grateful for the kindness you showed me at the Italian opera the other night. I appreciate, as I should, your condescension in letting me see your face for two hours; and truth compels me to say that I admired it extremely, as I did your hair also, which I had never seen so closely before.

      As for your assertion that you have never refused me anything that I asked, you will have to remain several million years in purgatory for that pretty fib. I see that you are anxious to have my Etruscan stone, and as I am more magnanimous than you, I shall not say, like Leonidas, “Come and take it!” but I shall ask you again how you wish me to send it to you.

      I have no recollection of comparing you to Cerberus; yet both have, indeed, several points of resemblance, not only because, like him, you love tarts, but also because you have three heads. I mean to say three brains; one, that of a shocking coquette; another, that of an experienced diplomatist; the third I shall not tell you, because I am not going to say anything amiable to you to-day. I am very ill and miserable on account of several misfortunes that have descended on my head. If you have any influence with Destiny, pray him to treat me kindly for the next two or three months. I have just been to see Frédégonde, which bored me to death, in spite of Mademoiselle Rachel, who has magnificent black eyes, without any white, like the devil’s, they say.

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