promised to 'venir m'embrasser' before she left Paris; but she did not
come. We both tried hard to please her, and she told a friend of ours
that she 'liked us'; only we always felt that we couldn't
penetrate--couldn't really _touch_ her--it was all vain. Her play
failed, though full of talent. It didn't draw, and was withdrawn
accordingly. I wish she would keep to her romances, in which her real
power lies.

We have found out Jadin, Alexandre Dumas' friend and companion in the
'_Speronare_.' He showed Robert at his house poor Louis Philippe's
famous 'umbrella,' and the Duke of Orleans' uniform, and the cup from
which Napoleon took his coffee, which stood beside him as he signed the
abdication. Then there was a picture of 'Milord' hanging up. I must go
to see too. Said Robert: 'Then Alexandre Dumas doesn't write romances
always?' (You know it was like a sudden spectacle of one of Leda's
eggs.) 'Indeed,' replied Jadin, 'he wrote the true history of his own
travels, only, of course, seeing everything, like a poet, from his own
point of view.' Alfred de Musset was to have been at M. Buloz's, where
Robert was a week ago, on purpose to meet him, but he was prevented in
some way. His brother Paul de Musset, a very different person, was there
instead--but we hope to have Alfred on another occasion. Do you know his
poems? He is not capable of large grasps, but he has poet's life and
blood in him, I assure you. He is said to be at the feet of Rachel just
now, and a man may nearly as well be with a tigress in a cage. He began
with the Princess Belgiojoso--followed George Sand--Rachel finishes, is
likely to 'finish' in every sense. In the intervals, he plays at chess.
There's the anatomy of a _man_!

We are expecting a visit from Lamartine, who does a great deal of honour
to both of us, it appears, in the way of appreciation, and is kind