Enough if I felt that he was worthy of it, and happier methinks to console him when he failed than to triumph with him when he won.

Tell me, have you felt this?
When you loved did you stoop as to a slave, or did you bow down as to a master?
FROM MADAME DE GRANTMESNIL TO ISAURA CICOGNA.
Chere enfant,--All your four letters have reached me the same day.

In one of my sudden whims I set off with a few friends on a rapid tour along the Riviera to Genoa, thence to Turin on to Milan.

Not knowing where we should rest even for a day, my letters were not forwarded.
I came back to Nice yesterday, consoled for all fatigues in having insured that accuracy in description of localities which my work necessitates.
You are, my poor child, in that revolutionary crisis through which genius passes in youth before it knows its own self, and longs vaguely to do or to be a something other than it has done or has been before.
For, not to be unjust to your own powers, genius you have,--that inborn undefinable essence, including talent, and yet distinct from it.

Genius you have, but genius unconcentrated, undisciplined.