Chapter CCXCVII: PARIS, Sunday, June 30, 1867

DEAR FRIEND: Here are two tickets for to-morrow’s ceremony.[38] They deserve a rare tip, for I had a great deal of trouble in procuring them. I send them to you in haste. Try not to be ill. It will be terribly hot!

CCXCVIII

_Friday, July 5, 1867._

DEAR FRIEND: I am delighted that you enjoyed yourself. I was afraid of the heat, and of the weight of my harness. You looked for me in vain. I did not go. Come soon, and tell me the beautiful things you saw, and give me your opinion of the sultan and the princes, who had the privilege of gazing on you for three hours.

I think that this fusillade[39] will injure our affairs, which were progressing well. It is a great pity.