ld you besides (no, I fancy not) that an English lady
of rank, _an acquaintance of ours_ (observe that!), asked, the other
day, the American Minister whether 'Robert was not an American.' The
Minister answered 'Is it possible that _you_ ask me _this_? Why, there
is not so poor a village in the United States where they would not tell
you that Robert Browning was an Englishman, and that they were very
sorry he was not an American.' Very pretty of the American Minister--was
it not?--and literally true besides.

I have been meditating, Sarianna, dear, whether we might not make our
summer out at Fontainebleau in the picturesque part of the forest. It
would be quiet, and not very dear. And we might dine together and take
hands as at Havre--for we will all insist on Robert's doing the
hospitality. I confess to shrinking a good deal about the noise of
Paris--we might try Paris later. What do you say? The sea is so very
far--it is such a journey--it looks so to me just now. And the south of
France is very hot--as hot as Italy--besides making you pay greatly 'for
your whistle.' Switzerland would increase both expenses and journey for
everybody. Fontainebleau is said to be delicious in the summer, and if
you don't mind losing your sea bathing, it might answer. Arabel wants me
to go to England, but as _I did not last year_ my heart and nerves
revolt from it now. Besides, we belong to the nonno and you this
summer. Arabel can and, I dare say, will join us. And Milsand? You say
'once in three years.' Not quite _so_, I think. In any case, it has been
far worse with some of mine. All the days of the three times of meeting
in fourteen years, can only be multiplied together into _three weeks_;
and this after a life of close union! Also, it was not _her_ fault--she
had not pecuniary means. I am bitter against myself for not having gone
to England for a week or two in the Havre year. I could have done it,
Robert would have let me. But now, no more. It was the war the year
before last, and my unsteadiness of health last year, which kept us from
our usual visit to you. This time we shall come.

Only we shall avoid the Alps, coming and going, out of prudence. Then,
for next winter, we return to Rome....

Why do you believe all the small gossip set in movement by the Emperor's
enemies, in Paris, against his friends, as in foreign countries against
himself? It's a league of lies against him and his. 'Intriguing
lacqueys.' That's a sweeping ph