could
not have done better--not at all.

Our kind love to Kate--and mind you give our regards to Dr. Gresonowsky.
Also to Mr. Jarves--poor Mr. Jarves--how sorry I am about the pictures!

Robert will write another time, he says, 'with kindest love.'

* * * * *

_To Miss Browning_

[Siena: September-October, 1859.]

My dearest Sarianna,--We are on the verge of returning to Florence, for
a short time--only to pack up, I believe, and go further south--to 'meet
the revolution,' tell the dearest Nonno, with my love. The case is that
though I am really convalescent and look well (Robert has even let me
take to Penini a little, which is conclusive), it is considered
dangerous for me to run the risk of even a Florence winter. You see I
have been _very_ ill. The physician thought there was pressure of the
lungs on the _heart_, and, under those circumstances, that I _must_
avoid irritation of the lungs by any cold. Say nothing which can reach
my sisters and frighten them; and after all I care very little about
doctors, except that I do know myself how hard renewals of the late
attack would go with me. But I mean to take care, and use God's
opportunities of getting strong again. Also it seems to me that I have
taken a leap within these ten days, and that the strength comes back in
a fuller tide. After all, it is not a cruel punishment to us to have to
go to Rome again this winter, though it will be an undesirable expense,
and though we did wish to keep quiet this winter, the taste for constant
wanderings having passed away as much for me as for Robert. We begin to
see that by no possible means can one spend as much money to so small an
end. And then we don't work so well--don't live to as much use, either
for ourselves or others. Isa Blagden bids us observe that we pretend to
live at Florence, and are not there much above two months in the year,
what with going away for the summer and going away for the winter. It's
too true. It's the drawback of Italy. To live in one place here is
impossible for us almost, just as to live out of Italy at all is
impossible for us. It isn't caprice--that's all I mean to say--on our
part.

Siena pleases us very much. The silence and repose have been heavenly
things to me, and the country is very pretty, though no more than
pretty--nothing marked or romantic, no mountains (did you fancy us on
the mountains?) except so far off as to be like a cloud only, on clea