When a deer makes a wish to become a human being—
Paris, July 5 / June 24, 1887
I have had no time to write to you these past days. The mornings fly by so quickly because breakfast is not until eleven o’clock, and the entire afternoon is spent in Paris, where it is impossible to finish any business on time—the distances are so long, and the horses go trudge-trudge!
When I last wrote to you, I thought we would not be able to leave before Tuesday, especially since the dentist’s work had once again been interrupted. But two days ago the Sumarokovs decided to leave on Saturday. Yesterday Zongheimer came, yet they did not change their plans, provided only that the dentist manages to finish his work.
The day before yesterday, Zaïde went with me to see Peter. There were so many people there, and since Zaïde could not wait—her dentist had given her a fixed appointment—we left and took tickets for today instead.
Yesterday we visited Bouchut. He read the letter carefully, examined me, and found that my lungs and heart were in good condition, with nothing abnormal in any of my other internal organs. However, he said that I am anaemic and that I have granulomas in my larynx. He did not recommend Brézac, but instead advised a strengthening cure at Franzensbad, along with baths or sea air.
Naturally, Zaïde will not be able to accompany me to the seaside, but what can be done! It would be nice if I could take the cure together with Zaïde at Franzensbad.
Of course, Bouchut did not recognize me, but when he heard my name, he remembered the Hotel du Louvre.
Almost every day lately there have been many people at dinner. Even Boulanger was invited one day, but since he was certain of his departure, he politely declined. It is a pity—it would have been interesting and rather amusing.
The baby has changed wet nurses. It is sad, but what can be done? She did not suit him.
Grandmama, whom I am very sorry to leave with all my heart, sends you her love.
We all ask for your blessing upon us. Until we meet again soon, dear Papa!
