June 20th, 1865. The battle has started, it seems. I can see the sparks fly even from here (Fountainbleau).
A few deserters are passing with matches that want to be torches.
Le Charivari, Le Siecle: two real old knockheads, Edouard; it’s hilarious to listen to that infectious, empty, stupid and foolish verbiage from low amateurish minds who don’t even have a tongue. Oh! the glazed look of Texier… And this envious buffoon pretends to be happy? What an ocean Paris is! And how unfortunate to meet those pleasant monsters. I am happy for you, because these riots rejuvenate the mind!
It’s like hardening steel – and it goes without saying, Edouard, that we won’t be leaving Toledo. After these heavy storms, I am expecting rainbows. Let’s hope that those hardy fellows will propose a toast to your mind.
Collect with great care all the pieces of paper that bear your name so that I can make a festoon of them upon my return.
I believe the verses were published. I now stand guard, protecting the royal tent.
I haven’t read anything on the whole group and nothing on Fantin.
Are we really being machine-gunned? If such is our luck, please let me know. Give me the most intimate details of what is going on. Warm regards to our friends. I will let you know how my work is progressing.