of work, to have been free as a bird,
superhumanly happy, and to return to one's cell! . . . is it possible?
. . . I dream: I dream by day and by night, and the thought of the
heart driven back on itself prevents all action of the thought of the
brain; it is terrible!"

[*] "Correspondance," vol. ii. p. 200.

On one occasion Madame Hanska wrote apparently reproaching him with
talking indiscreetly about her; and without finishing the letter, the
end of which was affectionate, and would have calmed his mind, he at
once jumped out of the cab in which he was driving, and walked for
hours about Paris. He was wearing thin shoes, and there were two
inches of snow on the ground; but his agitation was so great at her
unjust accusations, and his indignation so fierce at the wickedness of
the people who had libelled him, that he hardly knew where he was
going, and returned at last, still so excited by the anguish of his
mind, that he was not conscious of bodily fatigue. Such crises, and
the consequent exhaustion afterwards, were not conducive to work;
particularly in a man whose heart was already affected, and who had
overstrained his powers for years.

Possibly in the hope of obtaining distraction and relief from the
anxious misery of thought, he went into society more than usual this
year; and in spite of the strained relations between him and Emile de
Girardin, he often dined at the editor's house, and was on most
friendly terms with Madame de Girardin. On January 1st, 1846, he wrote
to Madame Hanska, "I dined, as I told you in my last letter, with
Nestor Roqueplan, the director of the Theatre des Varietes, the last
Wednesday of December, and the last day of the month with the
illustrious Delphine. We laughed as much as I can laugh without you,
and far from you. Delphine is really the queen of conversation; that
evening she was especially sublime, brilliant, charming. Gautier was
there as well; I left after having a long talk with him. He said that
there was no hurry for 'Richard, Coeur d'Eponge'; the theatre is well
provided at present. Perhaps Gautier and I will write the piece
together later on."[*]

[*] "Correspondance," vol. ii. p. 212.

Balzac's mind was still running on the theatre. Owing to failing
health and to his unfortunate love affair, he now found it more
difficult to concentrate his mind than formerly, and the incessant
work of earlier years was no longer possible; so that the easy road to
fortune offered