my kneeling--she does not care for me. Perhaps she doesn't care much
for anybody by this time, who knows? She wrote one or two or three kind
notes to me, and 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.

'Alfred de Musset was to have been at M. Buloz' 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. . . . We are expecting a visit from Lamartine, who does a
great deal of honour to both of us in the way of appreciation, and was
kind enough to propose to come. I will tell you all about it.'


Mr. Browning fully shared his wife's impression of a want of frank
cordiality on George Sand's part; and was especially struck by it in
reference to himself, with whom it seemed more natural that she should
feel at ease. He could only imagine that his studied courtesy towards
her was felt by her as a rebuke to the latitude which she granted to
other men.

Another eminent French writer whom he much wished to know was Victor
Hugo, and I am told that for years he carried about him a letter of
introduction from Lord Houghton, always hoping for an opportunity of
presenting it. The hope was not fulfilled, though, in 1866, Mr. Browning
crossed to Saint Malo by the Channel Islands and spent three days in
Jersey.