, _toothache in the backbone_,
and since then have sat all day to be modeled for my bust.
We spent the other evening with Baron de Triqueti, the sculptor. He
has an English wife, and a charming daughter about the age of our
girls. Life in Paris is altogether more simple and natural than in
England. They give you a plate of cake and a cup of tea in the most
informal, social way,--the tea-kettle sings at the fire, and the son
and daughter busy themselves gayly together making and handing tea.
When tea was over, M. de Triqueti showed us a manuscript copy of the
Gospels, written by his mother, to console herself in a season of
great ill-health, and which he had illustrated all along with
exquisite pen-drawings, resembling the most perfect line engravings. I
can't describe the beauty, grace, delicacy, and fullness of devotional
feeling in these people. He is one of the loveliest men I ever saw.
We have already three evenings in the week in which we can visit and
meet friends if we choose, namely, at Madame Mohl's, Madame Lanziel's,
and Madame Belloc's. All these sal?ns are informal, social gatherings,
with no fuss of refreshments, no nonsense of any kind. Just the
cheeriest, heartiest, kindest little receptions you ever saw.
A kiss to dear little Charley. If he could see all the things that I
see every day in the Tuileries and Champs Elys?es, he would go wild.
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