_[Menton], Monday, March 9th, 1874._

We have all been getting photographed, and the proofs are to be seen
to-day. How they will look I know not. Madame Zassetsky arranged me for
mine, and then said to the photographer: "_C'est mon fils. Il vient
d'avoir dix-neuf ans. Il est tout fier de sa jeune moustache. Tachez de
la faire paraitre_," and then bolted leaving me solemnly alone with the
artist. The artist was quite serious, and explained that he would try to
"_faire ressortir ce que veut Madame la Princesse_" to the best of his
ability; he bowed very much to me, after this, in quality of Prince you
see. I bowed in return and handled the flap of my cloak after the most
princely fashion I could command.--Ever your affectionate son,

R. L. S.

TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON

_[Menton], March 20, 1874._

I. _My Cloak._--An exception occurs to me to the frugality described a
letter (or may be two) ago; my cloak: it would certainly have been
possible to have got something less expensive; still it is a fine
thought for absent parents that their son possesses simply THE GREATEST
vestment in Mentone. It is great in size, and unspeakably great in
design; _qua_ raiment, it has not its equal.

III. _About Spain._--Well, I don't know about _me_ and Spain. I am
certainly in no humour and in no state of health for voyages and
travels. Towards the end of May (see end), up to which time I seem to
see my plans, I might be up to it, or I might not; I think _not_ myself.
I have given up all idea of going on to Italy, though it seems a pity
when one is so near; and Spain seems to me in the same category. But for
all that, it need not interfere with your voyage thither: I would not
lose the chance, if I wanted.

IV. _Money._--I am much obliged. That makes L180 now. This money irks
me, one feels it more than when living at home. However, if I have
health, I am in a fair way to make a bit of a livelihood for myself. Now
please don't take this up wrong; don't suppose I am thinking of the
transaction between you and me; I think of the transaction between me
and mankind. I think of all this money wasted in keeping up a structure
that may never be worth it--all this good money sent after bad. I shall
be seriously angry if you take me up wrong.

V. _Roads._--The familiar false concord is not certainly a form of
colloquialism that I should feel inclined to encourage. It is very odd;
I wrote it very carefully, and you s