one or two of them. You know that is why I quarrel with you
always. I should like to see more constancy in you. You
tell Hippolyte that you are very willing and courageous. As
to physical courage, of the kind that consists in enduring
illness and in not fearing death, I dare say you have that,
but I doubt very much whether you have the courage necessary
for sustained work, unless you have very much altered.
Everything fresh delights you, but after a little time you
only see the inconveniences of your position. You will
scarcely find anything without something that is annoying
and troublesome, but if you cannot learn to put up with
things you will never be a man.

"This is the end of my sermon. I expect you have had enough
of it, especially as you are not accustomed to reading my
bad handwriting. I shall be glad to hear from you, but do
not consider your letter as a State affair, and do not
torment yourself to arrange well-turned phrases. I do not
care for such phrases at all. A letter is always good enough
when the writer expresses himself naturally, and says what
he thinks. Fine pages are all very well for the
schoolmaster, but I do not appreciate them at all. Promise
me to be reasonable, and to think of my sermons now and
then. That is all I ask. You may be very sure that if it
were not for my friendship for you I should not take the
trouble to lecture you. I should be afraid of annoying you
if it were not for that. As it is, I am sure that you are
not displeased to have my lectures, and that you understand
the feeling which dictates them.