y marriage at Geneva. . . . You attribute to me little
defects which I do not have to give yourself the pleasure of
scolding me. No one is less extravagant than I; no one is willing
to live with more economy. But reflect that I work too much to
busy myself with certain details, and, in short, that I had rather
spend five to six thousand francs a year than marry to have order
in my household; for a man who undertakes what I have undertaken
either marries to have a quiet existence, or accepts the
wretchedness of La Fontaine and Rousseau. For pity's sake, do not
talk to me of my want of order; it is the consequence of the
independence in which I live, and which I desire to keep."

In spite of these reproaches, Balzac's affection for her continued,
and he decided to have his portrait made for her. Boulanger was the
artist chosen, and since he wished payment at once, Madame Hanska sent
the novelist a sum for this purpose. For a Christmas greeting, 1836,
she sent him a copy of the Daffinger miniature made at Vienna the
preceding year. Again--this time in _Illusions perdues_--he gave her
name, Eve, to a young girl whom he regarded as the most charming
creature he had created (Eve Chardon, who became Madame David
Sechard).

In the spring of 1837 Balzac went to Italy to spend a few weeks.
Seeing at Florence a bust of his _Predilecta_, made by Bartolini, he
asked M. de Hanski's permission to have a copy of it, half size, made
for himself, to place on his writing desk. This journey aroused Madame
Hanska's suspicions again, but he assured her he was not dissipating,
but was traveling to rejuvenate his broken-down brain, since, working
night and day as he did, a man might easily die of overstrain.

He continued to save his manuscripts for her, awaiting an opportunity
to send or take them to her. Her letters became less frequent and full
of stings, but he begged her to disbelieve everything she heard of him
except from himself, as she had almost a complete journal of his life.
He explained that the tour he purposed making to the Mediterranean was
neither for marriage nor for anything adventurous or silly, but he was
pledged to secrecy, and, whether it turned out well or ill, he risked
nothing but a journey. As to her reproaches how he, knowing all,
penetrating and observing all, could be so duped and deceived, he
wondered if she could love him if he were always so prudent that no
misfortune ever happened to him