Paris, July 9, 1843.

You are right to forget quarrels, if you can. As you say, very sensibly, the closer you examine them the more important they grow. It is best to dream as long as possible, and as we can always repeat the same dream, it becomes almost a reality. I am feeling better since yesterday, and slept all last night, which I had not been able to do for a long time. I believe, too, that my spirits have been lighter ever since I let off steam the other day.

It is a pity we can not meet the day after having a quarrel, for I am sure we should be in a perfectly amiable frame of mind. You promised to appoint a day, but it has not occurred to you to do so, or else, what would be even more unkind, you thought it would be an indecorous thing to do. It is this constant preoccupation of yours which is so often a cause of disagreement between us. As the hour of our separation draws near, I become more discontented with myself, and the result is I behave as if I were discontented with you. I might have said that you hold yourself too much in check in order to please me. I catch myself incessantly flying into a rage against this restraint, which, even in its most agreeable aspect, conceals an underlying basis of sadness. But dream, therein lies wisdom. When? That is the whole question.

You ought to translate for me a German book which gets on my nerves. Nothing is more irritating than a German professor who thinks he has discovered an idea. The title is alluring. It is: das Provocations-verfahren der RÖmer.